


The Great Middle Earth Bake Off

by LittleLynn



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: (although three characters will have to stay for a lil while for ship plot and shitstirring reasons, Bake Off AU, Interactive Fic, Multi, focus is on barduil but the others will get there screen time as well, i've never attempted anything like this before so i hope it goes well, you get to vote who you want to stay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That glorious time of year is coming around again, yes, it is almost time for the Great British Bake Off (5th of August, get excited)</p><p>And because I am trash (tolkien, barduil and bake off trash) I have decided to write a Bake Off Au </p><p>So get set for a fic filled with innudeno, yummy sweets, custard controversy and competitive bakers…</p><p>But wait! There is more!</p><p>This will be no ordinary fic, oh no, this is a Bake Off fic, how on earth could it be ordinary!?</p><p>I will be writing a chapter alongside each Bake Off episode, and you will be allowed to vote off baking contestants, in the comments and tags and my askbox!</p><p>However, there is more; even though I am keeping Bard and Thranduil around for the long run as this is essentially a barduil fic, I will only force you to keep them until the semi’s, so you will still be able to chose the winner of The Great Middle Earth Bake Off! </p><p>Tune in to chapter one and come meet your bakers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet The Bakers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All the wonderful readers and supporters of this ridiculous fic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+the+wonderful+readers+and+supporters+of+this+ridiculous+fic).



 

** **

** Hello and welcome to The Great Middle Earth Bake Off! **

 

Before we get started on the making and baking tomorrow evening, I thought it would be nice for you to meet your amateur bakers!

So have a read, and tag, comment or inbox me to vote for your favourite baker to avoid their elimination from the competition!

 

**Bard Bowman**

An interesting entry to bake off given that he had no idea he had been entered, the baking he does for his children had inspired them to put their da forward.

Bard works as a mechanic in Wales, living with his three children they have been the inspiration for most of Bard’s baking creations, his youngest Tilda promises that his caterpillar cakes are a force to be reckoned with.

Far from a perfectionist, Bard is much more about substance than style in his baking, will that scupper him in the Showstopper challenge?

 

**Thranduil Oropherion**

How does one describe Thranduil Oropherion? Driven, confident, patient, perfectionist.

Thranduil is a CEO based in Surrey, and has been considering entering Bake Off for a few years now, but it is only this year that his little son Legolas has deemed him finally ready, and it must be said, he seems to be right.

Thranduil’s attention to detail and patience will no doubt make him a force to be reckoned with in the technical bake, but will he have trouble keeping to the allocated time? In restricted time, sometimes patience is not such a virtue.

 

**Bilbo Baggins**

Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, in the small Hamlet on Hobbiton deep in the countryside of Hertfordshire has been baking since before he could walk, reportedly it was something his mother and father loved to do together, even if for a while Bilbo threw more flour around than actually helped bake.

Encouraged by his boyfriend, a Mr Thorin Oakenshield, and his nephew Frodo, Bilbo has finally entered Bake Off, heading in with a very calm and collected attitude.

Bilbo is likely to own the signature bake challenge, but is he adventurous enough in his baking to really take on the showstopper round?

 

**Ori**

Ori lives with his two older brothers in Norfolk. Ori is very good at making bakes out of limited or unusual ingredients, due to the fact that his brother Nori has usually made off with half the ingredients in the kitchen only a day or so after the shopping has been done.

Ori is a cheerful but sometimes timid baker, but as our youngest baker, will his lack of experience act as a major disadvantage in the later rounds, when the method of baking must be worked out on your own?

 

**Bombur**

Bombur likes food, actually that is probably a massive understatement, Bombur _loves_ food. You may in fact recognise him from other amateur cooking programs such as Masterchef, but this is the first time the jolly man has tried his hand at baking.

His brother Bofur reckons that Bombur will go far in the competition…so long as he doesn’t eat the bakes before the judges have had a chance to try them that is.

Healthy baking is not something Bombur is overly worried about, his main goal is ‘maintaining deliciousness’, but does he have the skill and technical knowledge to go very far?

(Here’s hoping he doesn’t accidentally eat someone else’s’ ingredients, that could get intense)   

 

**Beorn**

The gentle giant of the competition, so long as you don’t get on his bad side that is, then apparently he can be a little bit scary.

Beorn bakes in the memory of his mother and sisters, as it was something that they loved to do,  Beorn feels more connected to them again when he bakes, and this accounts for the care and devotion he puts into each and every one of his bakes.  

Blunt and straight forward, Beorn is going to tell you exactly what he thinks, the only thing he believes in sugar coating are his mouth-watering honey cakes, which he is hoping to be able to bake for our judges at some point.

 

**Balin**

Balin has many years of baking experience under his belt, and in Bake Off, experience is usually a very good thing to have on your side, unless of course, it has just left you set in your ways, but this does not seem to be the case with Balin.

Working in a bank Balin liked to bake to unwind whenever he got home from work, making pies and pastries for his parents and brother – a brother who is incidentally dating one of our other competitors this year.

Preferring simpler styles to elaborate decorations, Balin may well find he soars in the technical bake, only to fall at the showstopper.  

 

**Faramir**

To borrow a phrase from the internet, Faramir is a cinnamon roll, who coincidentally, bakes amazing cinnamon rolls. A sweet young man still at university, Faramir is constantly but down but his father but urged on and built back up by his brother.

Faramir used to bake with his mother before she passed and found it hard to go back to it for a long while until Boromir managed to coax him back into it, only to find that he had particularly nimble fingers in the kitchen, so Faramir swapped out fencing for baking in his hobbies.

Tackling confidence issues caused by his asshole father may make Bake Off an uphill struggle for Faramir, or it might finally make him realise just how worthwhile he really is.

 

**Arwen**

The daughter of the highly respected owner of the resort of Imladris, Arwen could usually be found scuttling around the kitchens insisting on being taught everything they knew about cooking.

Studying language at university saw Arwen spending a year in Paris, where she fell in love with the patisseries and delicacies that the beautiful city had to offer, transferring her focus from general cooking to baking, Arwen’s dishes certainly have a noticeable French flare.

How will this fierce but calm tempered, heiress fair in the struggles of Bake Off?

 

**Éowyn**

On first glance, it would be easy to underestimate soft spoken Éowyn, she may seem quiet and melancholy on the surface, but there is fire in her belly, a fire to be reckoned with, and you will almost certainly see it before Bake Off is over.

A true fighter, Éowyn fought for the chance to be on Bake Off just as fiercely as she heads a student group that fights for women’s rights and freedom in all corners of the world.

“I am in the kitchen only because I want to be, if I wanted to join the army then I would do that too.”

Do not underestimate this one.

 

**Radagast**

By far our most unusual baker this year, but what is Bake Off without a few oddballs? Radagast works with animals out on a nature preserve, all but living out there with them, and if he was allowed, he most certainly live with the animals.

At first he seems scatter-brained and unfocused, that is, until he gets his mind narrowed onto a task which he will them pursue with a single minded focus, always adding a strange Radagastian flare too all of his bakes.   

But will his concoctions be just a little too strange for our judges to handle?

 

**Sauron**

That he is a meticulous and hardworking baker are some of Mairon only redeeming qualities, we’re not sure where he lives or what he does exactly, but honestly we are probably better off not knowing.

Constantly showing off, Sauron is going to be one to watch in the showstopper bakes.  

Self-proclaimed beauty and openly feeling smugly superior to everyone around him makes Sauron a bit of an asshole in our books, but Bake Off likes a contestant that will add a bit of spice to the mix and throw chili power in the chocolate. Besides, at least he isn’t as bad as his boyfriend appears to be…

 

 

Your presenters Merry and Pippin, and you’re baking judges Lady Galadriel and Samwise Gamgee, will see you tomorrow for the first round of Bake Off.

Make sure to vote for your favourite baker!

**Are you ready? Get set, bake!**

 

 

 

## 


	2. Round One

 

Bard Bowman flexed his fingers nervously as he and the other eleven bakers headed into the bake off tent for the first time.

He had promised himself he wasn’t going to be nervous, it was just a baking competition, no, actually it was  _the_  baking competition.

Bard was a little nervous, he was pretty sure he didn’t have half the technical knowledge of the rest of the bakers, even the young ones. But still, he hadn’t wanted to disappoint his children, so here he was, and he needed to avoid disappointing them anyway by not going home in the first week.

Easier said than done.

Bard found his baking section and fastened his apron, trying his best not to feel intimidated by the competition (best achieved by just not looking at them he felt) (he failed).

They were an odd bunch really, ranging from short and fat to tall and slim, and looking as if someone from every walk of life imaginable was present.

Bard noticed a nervous looking student securing his apron, he shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. But the baker that was really catching his eye was the tall blonde at the station in front of his own, trying his long hair back in an intricate and perfect braid like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He had very pretty hair.

But Bard didn’t get too long to admire it, because it was only moments before Merry and Pippin came bounding into the tent, grabbing everyone’s attention by the energy they exuded (and the noise they made as they stumbled in).

“Hello bakers!” Pippin shouted happily, large grin present on his face.

“And welcome to Bake Off 2015.” Merry finished for him.

“Are you ready to meet your judges?” Pippin asked.

“Well tough if you’re not because they’re already here.” Merry grinned, and sure enough, Samwise and Galadriel came into the tent.

“Hello bakers.” Sam greeted again, Galadriel just gave them all a knowing smile, what exactly she knew was questionable, well, actually, everything there was to know about baking was what she knew.

“For your first bake, we would like you to make us a Madeira cake.” Galadriel told them, and really that seemed far too simple.

But then again maybe that was the point, this was the signature bake round.  

“We want to see a good crack in the dome of the cake. You have one hour and forty-five minutes.” Sam informed them.

No further instruction was given to them, they would all be producing their own version of the Madeira cake, Bard only knew the classic version, he hoped that would be enough to see him through.

“Alright then bakers.” Pippin started.

“On your marks.” Merry that time.

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

And like that, in various states of nervous panic, they were off.

The previously mentioned tall blonde in front of him seemed the most collected of the lot of them, moving around the kitchen with a practiced elegance. There was something captivating about him…

What the hell was Bard doing he was supposed to be baking.

He needed to focus.

So Bard did his upmost to ignore the people around him (just the one in front, he was the one he was having most trouble with).  

Bard focused himself and got on with his traditional madeira cake.

In moments of respite, waiting for things to rise and mix and whatnot, Bard let his eyes travel around the room a bit, see how the others were doing.

The tall blonde man in front of him seemed to have everything under control, with his cake looking as perfect as his hair, he turned around and caught Bard looking, sending him and wink and making Bard blush slightly before going back to his bake.

As he was mixing the ingredients the judges and presenters came over to ask him about his bake.

“Tell us about your Madeira cake Bard.” Galadriel smiled kindly, putting bard a little at ease.

“Well, it’s pretty basic really, just the traditional recipe. I might try and candy some lemon or orange pieces if I have time.” Bard told them, stirring at his bowl.

“Sounds good to me.” Pippin announced.

“I hope you have time to do the candied pieces.” Sam informed him before they all moved on, Merry and Pippin swiping a spoonful of mix as they went.

So Bard spent twenty minutes baking whilst completely overanalysing Sam’s comment and whether or not it meant that his bake would be crap without them, before calming down and making sure he had time for them while the sponge was baking.

The student Bard had noticed earlier nervously playing with his apron seemed to be getting along fine. The young lady next to him, about the same age, was focused and carefully making her candied lemon pieces.

The massive guy that somewhat resembled a bear seemed to be pouring honey into his cake, which was…interesting. A scatter-brained looking older man was bustling around his area and making quite the mess, but of course that didn’t mean his cake wasn’t delicious.

Bard took his cake out and was pleased with the slight dome and the crack, as well as the colour. He stuck a skewer in and was happy with the sponge and went about adding a little zest and candied pieces.

Bard was just placing the final touch to his fairly simple looking cake as Merry and Pippin called time on the bakes.

That had not felt like an hour and forty-five minutes, bard definitely need to keep a closer eye on the time in future.

They all waited by their cakes (whether they were finished or not) and happily eavesdropped on everyone else’s comments from the judges.

Bilbo was first, Sam and Galadriel seemed more than happy with his cake, leaving a big genuine smile on the small man’s face. Next up was Ori, his was…less than perfect, there was no crack in the top, the sponge was too soggy, but they did like his addition of a blood orange to the mix so it wasn’t all bad. Then was Bombur, who had mixed in chocolate which the judges weren’t too fond of, but didn’t stop Bombur from digging in once they had moved on.

Beorn, the bear like man, had a fun exchange with the judges.

“If I remember rightly, you mixed honey in with your cake?” Galadriel asked rhetorically before taking a delicate bite.

“Not a great edition it must be said.” Sam commented after his own bite.

“I like honey.” Was Beorn’s response, at which the beautiful blonde man in front of him turned to shot Bard an amused look that he couldn’t help but share. Bad really hoped they would get to his cake sooner so he would find out his name.  

“And I like potatoes, doesn’t mean they need to go in everything.” Sam pointed out.

“Why not, if you like them.” Beorn asked simply, but before Sam could go on a tirade about which flavours worked and savouries and sweets, Galadriel cut in.

“Maybe try some things without honey in the future.” She suggested, moving them on to the next bake, Beorn looked less than thrilled at the idea.

Then came Balin, whose cake was falling apart and crumbling everywhere it was so dry, but he knew he had not excelled and took the criticisms gracefully. A beautiful raven haired girl called Arwen was next, her cake artfully decorated and successfully impressing the judges.

The student near Bard was next, Faramir, his cake was leaving quite a bit to be desired, and if he chewed his lip any harder he wasn’t going to have any lip left. After him was the girl next to him, Éowyn, who’s cake was deemed bland but not terrible.

Then was the one he had been waiting for. The blond in front of him.

“Thranduil, yours was the Madeira with gin and tonic correct?” Sam asked.

“It is indeed.” Thranduil confirmed.

“And interesting edition.” Galadriel commented, amusement alight in her eye.

“You have to make less excuses about the time of day if the alcohol is in the cake.” Thranduil told her, and Bard couldn’t help his little laugh.

“Well, I think it works.” Sam shrugged.

“Agreed, and the presentation really is flawless.” Galadriel added. “Although maybe next time slightly less liquid. It is very close to being too moist.”

The next person was Radagast who had added figs to the mix and they had all sunk too the bottom, there was also the interesting edition of various bits of edible plant to the top. The judges really didn’t know what to make of it.

Then came the tall, imperious Sauron, who would be beautiful if it weren’t for the sneer and superiority complex he so clearly had going on. His cake was unfortunately delicious and made Sam’s eyes roll back and Galadriel’s eyelids flutter at the taste.

Bard was up next.

He held his breath as the judges took their bites, their faces unfairly unreadable.

“This is a not flares or tricks traditional madeira cake.” Galadriel started and Bard was already kicking himself for not trying something more elaborate, but then she continued. “And it is utterly perfect.”

“Nothing beats the traditional.” Sam agreed, nodding his head and eating one of the candied pieces on top. “Glad you had time for these, I am partial to them.”

And that was that, leaving Bard with a massive grin on his face.

Up next was the technical bake. They all got the same recipe, the same ingredients, and a thin method to vaguely guide them, and they had to prove to the judges they knew what they were doing.

This week it was a walnut cake.

Bard got to work, chopping down his walnuts into quarters and moving on to the next step. They did not have very much time for this one.

“Bard.” Bard looked up to find Thranduil mixing his bowl in front of Bard’s counter.

“Thranduil?” Bard responded, and god did a face really need to be that perfect? Was it really necessary?

“You want to cut the walnuts down smaller, or they’ll sink.” He advised.

“How do I know you’re not trying to sabotage me?” Bard asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Because if you don’t even know those walnut pieces are too big, I clearly don’t need to.” Thranduil smirked back and Bard huffed indignantly, but started to chop the walnuts smaller anyway.

“Whatever, my cakes could kick your cakes’ ass.” Bard told him like the adult he was.

“We shall see.” Thranduil smirked, and with another wink, he was back to his own baking station.

Bard looked around the room at one point to see Faramir burning his fingers and silently yelping out in pain. Bard was just about to abandon his walnuts to get Faramir to stick his hand under the cold tap, but before he could Éowyn was already on it.

When the baking time was up they all set their cakes anonymously behind a picture of themselves, so the judges didn’t know whose was whose, and waited once again to be judged.

Thranduil bent forward gracefully to carefully put his cake down behind his photo.

He looked delicious.

His cake.

His cake looked delicious.

Balin, Ori and Radagast were at the bottom of the pack, while Sauron, Thranduil and Bilbo took the top three spots. Bard was just glad at least two people had beaten Sauron that time. Bard had come fifth, which he was pretty proud of really, Sam commented that the walnuts were a good size, Thranduil smirked his wonderfully infuriating smirk at him, Bard just mouthed a ‘thank you’ back.

Then came the showstopper round, if Bard was going to stumble, now was probably going to be the time. He had never been good at the whole ostentatious, elaborate part of cake making. And the kids had never minded if things were a bit scruffy.

Bard was a bit scruffy after all.

The task was a black forest gateau. But because this was the showstopper, it needed to wow somehow. Bard groaned internally as everyone else started planning out elaborate chocolate collars and trees and cups and all sorts really.

Bard was going to have to learn how to do intricate and complicated things like that if he wanted to stick around in this competition for the long run.

Bard sucked it up and just got started on his sponge, that at least he could do.

Bard thought while he baked and came to the conclusion that there was no point attempting something that he knew he could not do just because everyone else was doing increasingly elaborate things.

He mixed the rich dark chocolate taste with layers of cream, covering the sides with curls of chocolate and surrounding the base with cherries and more piped cream. It was very neat and would probably taste lovely.

But it was not ‘showstopping’.

Bard saw Thranduil creating beautiful trees from chocolate, building a detailed forest out of chocolate, it was beautiful. Sauron had perfect and impossibly thin shards of chocolate surrounding his, swirling into a sharp, jagged point in the middle. The glazed cherries carefully sliced and arranged in between the shards made it look as though it was burning in the right light.

Bard didn’t even bother to look at anyone else’s.

Bard decided on a tactic and found himself a skewer, his soft and fluffy icing on top was just stiff enough to keep its shape but malleable enough to be sculpted fairly easily. So with a fair bit of cursing under his breath, Bard started to raise a forest up from his icing.

They weren’t very tall, couldn’t be without making more icing, but they were recognisably trees, a bustle of thick fir trees rising up from his cake.

It wasn’t on the level of Thranduil and Sauron, but it was at least fairly impressive, or at least not bog standard.

They brought their bakes up one by one to be judged. The comments on Bard’s cake were good, although it was generally acknowledged that they wanted more of a wow factor next time, but they did at least think his trees were pretty and a good effect on top of the cake.

Bilbo, Ori and Beorn had a similar problem to Bard, needing to step up their elaborate designs for the showstopper. Thranduil’s was, unsurprisingly, hailed as something of a masterpiece, each tree perfect, although the actual sponge was apparently just slightly dry. Bombur’s was huge and delicious, Bard had no idea how he had managed to bake a cake that size in their ovens. It was impressive.

Radagast’s looked like it had twigs all over the top, only for them to (thankfully) turn out to be made from chocolate, and it was show stopping enough that they had looked so convincing really. Bard had no idea how he had managed it.

Éowyn had tried an ambitious design that just hadn’t quite worked, the decorations having trouble standing up. Faramir had created a single white chocolate tree in the centre of his cake, it was incredibly emotive. Arwen’s had some very impressive delicate decorations carefully arranged over the cake.

Sauron’s left everyone’s jaws on the ground.

It was already impressive enough with its thin shards of chocolate spiralling up, but then he made a gesture that everyone should just shut up and watch, blacked out the tent as best he could while everyone waited in anticipation.

Then in the darkened tent Sauron shone a light on the cake and everyone gasped. It was beautiful and it was terrible. The effect Bard had seen early had not done it justice in the imperfect lighting.

It looked like a volcano, or a forge, glowing red through the thin chocolate and cherries tucked inside, sinister shadows falling over part of it.

Bard had no words for it, and neither did the judges, just staring with open mouths (okay Galadriel only had a look of awe, but that was her equivalent of a dropped jaw). And it was clearly absolutely indecently delicious as well, although it took them a long time to force themselves to cut into it and break the amazing decoration.

The judges looked as if they were looking for some words that would do the incredible creation justice.

But before they could Sauron found some words instead.

“I was quite aware of it’s perfection. Feel free to continue staring in awe.” Sauron announced, and with a flip of his flaming hair he was turning back to his station.

He was an asshole, but he was a bloody talented one.

Balin’s was last in both senses, the older man really was not having a very good day. He hadn’t given his chocolate mousse layers long enough to set and as a result the entire cake looked like it had kind of collapsed and melted, Sauron had made a few rather cutting remarks about it just loud enough to hear. On the brighter side it apparently tasted rather good.

That concluded the baking and the judges disappeared to discuss who would be star baker and who would be going home.

The waiting was rather tense, most of them finding themselves too jittery to really hold a conversation.

“Relax Bard.” Thranduil murmured next to him, voice set low and only for Bard’s ears it would seem.

“Easy for you to say with that amazing bake you just created.” Bard smiled back.

“Yes it was good wasn’t it? I’ve always liked the woods and forests, I felt inspired. But I think someone whose madeira cake was hailed as ‘utterly perfect’ really need not worry.” Thranduil reassured.

“Thank you.” Bard told him honestly, appreciating the bolstering.

“No problem. Although I’m still going to kick your ass.” He added with a wink, making Bard chuckle a little.

“You wish.” Bard grinned, and Thranduil looked like he had a response on the tip of his tongue but at that moment the judges and presenters came back into the tent.  

“First off we both want to say well done, for the first round you all coped well and produced some excellent bakes.” Sam told them with a kind smile, Galadriel nodding in agreement, but chosing not to speak.

“Now I have the awesome task of letting you know who star baker is this week.” Merry beamed at them. “This week’s star baker.” Merry started.

“If not star person.” Pippin added under his breath, getting an elbow in the ribs from Merry.

“Is Sauron.” Merry smiled, albeit a slightly forced looking smile.

Sauron just took it like it was his right and any other decision would have been catastrophically wrong. Seriously, this guy had a boyfriend? Who on earth could even put up with him.

“But unfortunately, this is bake off, so we have to say goodbye to one of you.” Merry began, and suddenly the tension in the room shot up massively.

“I am sorry to say that the baker leaving us this week, is Balin.” Pippin announced, and a mixture of relief and sadness washed over Bard, Balin had seemed like a nice guy.  

Balin took his elimination gracefully, accepting defeat and complimenting them all on their own baking as he did.

“I will be watching to see who wins.” Balin promised, and then more quietly to the group gathered around him. “Just make sure it isn’t that asshole.” Balin indicated to Sauron who was not joining in the farewells (surprise surprise), making them all laugh.

Anyway, with the exception of Sauron because he was clearly the head douche of doucheville, they all started shaking hands with each other, offering Balin some more condolences and good lucks for the future before heading off, relived to live to bake another round.

But just as he went to leave there was a deep melodic voice right in his ear.

“Until next week then, Bard Bowman.”

“I look forward to it.” Bard grinned back, much to the delight of Thranduil as he smirked one of his smirks and sauntered away.

Well, there was another kind of motivation not to go home next week.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed round one of bake off! 
> 
> You can vote for TWO bakers that you want to see STAY in the competition, but there is no need to vote for Bard and Thrandy until the semi’s because I need them for plot and trash reasons, so use your votes on the others for now!


	3. Round Two

 

Somehow Bard found it even more intimidating entering the tent for the second round. The pressure already ramping up and it was only the second week.

But as he found his cooking station and fastened up his apron, Thranduil turned around and winked at him, successfully making him blush on national tv.

Maybe they wouldn’t keep that bit in the final cut. But Merry and Pippin were giggling so they definitely caught it and he did not fancy his chances.

Dammit he was here to bake not flirt.

He needed to get his head in the game, or the oven, only not literally.

He looked around him at the other bakers as they waited for their judges to arrive and tell them what they would be baking. There was the one empty station now that Balin was gone, the fact that it was still there was moderately unnerving, they’d be another empty one next time.

Faramir and Éowyn were chatting away easily, helping each other with their aprons and looking like they were doing a good job of reassuring one another. Radagast looked like he was on another planet entirely as usual. Sauron was busy trying his flaming hair up, looking smug and confident as per, ignoring everyone else in the tent as if they were just not worth his attention.

Bilbo was actually on the phone, adorable smile pasted on his face and Bard would bet money that a significant other was wishing him luck right now. Ori looked nervous, Bombur looked hungry, Arwen was fiddling with her necklace – a very pretty and expensive looking necklace – as she waited patiently for the judges and Beorn was just looking far angrier than he ever actually seemed to be.

That brought Bard back to Thranduil, who was leaning against his countertop and smirking his smirk at Bard.

“Done checking out the competition?” Thranduil teased, coming over to rest his forearms on Bard’s worktop and look up at him.

“Not yet.” Bard replied, before giving Thranduil an appraising and appreciative look. “Yep, now I’m done.” Bard grinned, getting a melodic laugh out of Thranduil which was cut tragically short by the arrival of their judges.

“Hello bakers, welcome to biscuit week.” Sam smiled in greeting.

“The first thing we’re going to ask you to make for us, are twenty four Biscotti biscuits.” Galadriel said in that voice that simultaneously put you at ease and unnerved you, like she knew all your deepest darkest secrets or something.

But then again Bard’s deepest darkest secret was that he had once accidentally stolen a pencil from school when he was six and never returned it.

“You have two hours.” Sam informed them, which felt like enough.

“On your marks.” Pippin started.

“Get set.” Merry joined in.

“Bake!” They shouted in unison.

Bard set to work on his mix straight away. Twenty four Biscotti biscuits, Bard could predict that they would be wanting some sort of uniformity in the biscuits as well as their own touch to them, Bard planned to add chocolate and hazelnuts to his, having won the vote form his children when he’d practiced them at home. Chocolate tended to win most votes in a house filled with three children and one adult.

Focused on his baking Bard mixed and rolled out the dough and got started on laying them out well. Hitting his lull as he waited for them to bake.

But luckily everyone tended to hit the waiting lull at a similar time, and while some people liked to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of their oven (Radagast and Bombur were perfecting oven sitting this week), there was usually someone to talk to.

Next to him Faramir appeared, nervously wringing his hands and chewing on his lip.

“Relax Faramir, I’m sure your biscuits are fine.” Bard reassured, clapping the younger man on the back in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

“Hmm?” Faramir answered, a little distracted, before pulling his attention to Bard. “What sorry?”

“Your bake? Isn’t that why you look so nervous?” Bard asked, laughing a little bit.

“Oh, no for once I’m actually happy with my bake.” Faramir answered, sounding like his own answer actually surprised himself. Bard was glad, a little bit of confidence would do him some good.

“Well what is it then?” Bard wondered, Bilbo apparently feeling a little nosy and leaning over from his own station.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about me.” Faramir mumbled absently before wandering back off to his station to check on his bake and far more importantly Éowyn at the station in front of his.

“Three guess why he’s so distracted.” Bilbo mused from behind him, voice amused.

Bard considered muttering that he knew the feeling before thinking better of it.

“What about you?” Bard asked. “Someone was making you smile on the phone earlier.” Bard commented with a grin as he took a peek in his oven to check his biscuits hadn’t died.

“My nephew, Frodo, he’s only five.” Bilbo laughed, blush dusting on his cheeks again.

“Somehow I do not buy that your nephew is making you blush like that” Thranduil interrupted, joining their conversation.

“Fine, boyfriend as well. But Frodo was there! Thorin and he were just wishing me luck.” Bilbo admitted.

“God, you don’t mean Oakenshield do you.” Thranduil asked, wrinkling up his nose.

“Yes why.” Bilbo wondered, bemused by Thranduil’s reaction.

“He’s a royal pain to deal with. All but impossible to do any reasonable business with him.” Thranduil bitched, Bard finding his petulance cuter than he probably should have. “Mirkwood Industries, CEO.” Thranduil clarified when Bilbo gave him an inquisitive look.

“Ah, well, I’ve only ever heard you referred to by things like ‘prissy Mirkwood bastard’ so I can assure you the feeling is mutual from Thorin. But you don’t seem so bad to me.” Bilbo snickered slightly before turning to Bard. “They’re both too stubborn for their own good apparently.”

“Would not surprise me.” Bard grinned, laughing at Thranduil’s pout.

Bilbo bustled off to check on his biscuits as Bard rolled his eyes at Thranduil.

“My biscuits should be ready to come out soon as well.” Bard commented idly. “Everyone’s should actually.” He added, checking his watch. 

“Agreed, I think little Ori might be in some difficulty then.” Thranduil observed, motioning over to the younger man, only just getting his Biscotti in the oven now.

“Oh dear, can we help him?” Bard asked, fighting the urge to go over there even though there really was nothing to be done.

“Honestly Bard this is a competition.” Thranduil pointed out, and he wasn’t wrong.

“Doesn’t mean you need to be cutthroat about it.” Bard muttered, checking his oven once again, Thranduil seemed to have it down to instinct.

“You are going to be soft competition aren’t you.” Thranduil teased with a smirk.

“Hey!” Bard protested indignantly. “I can be tough.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Thranduil replied, voice sugary sweet and still smirking.

“Bring it on blondie.” Bard growled back playfully, eliciting another of Thranduil’s laughed as he swished his hair and went back to his biscuits.

Biscotti was not the easiest thing to make, needing to be baked twice thus leaving plenty of opportunities to ruin them.

“Bard, tell us about your Biscotti’s.” Galadriel smiled as they did their rounds through the bakers, finally reaching him.

“Hazelnut in the biscuit with some chocolate glazing on one end.” Bard answered getting started on the chocolate now.

“Sounds promising. You want to be careful the chocolate doesn’t look messy though.” Sam warned, which was a fair point, but chocolate was something Bard was very used to working with these days.

“Will do.” Bard smiled, and they moved on, Merry and Pippin looking delighted as he allowed them to swipe a piece of chocolate each.

Soon enough they were being warned by Pippin that they only had ten minutes left, Bard already almost finished glazing them with chocolate, happy with the uniformity. He was actually pretty pleased with them on the whole, they had come out a lot better than he tended to let himself hope for.

The judging came, them all bringing up their bakes and everyone cringing a little for Ori, whose were very visibly burnt on the outside.

Bilbo’s were good but considered slightly too crumbly instead of crunchy, Beorn’s were apparently a little bland despite the fruits he had put into the mix (Bard bet he would vow just to return to honey in everything after that), Bombur’s were a little heavy but generally good. Arwen’s were close to perfect, Sauron’s were in fact perfect (‘of course they are’ had been his response when the judges had told him).

Faramir’s were also considered excellent, the vein of cinnamon he had running through them being a hit with the judges. Éowyn’s weren’t bad, although they weren’t all identical as they should be, Bard’s chocolate and hazelnut mixture was well received and Thranduil’s almond and apricot biscotti topped with sugar crystals were a hit. Radagast’s weren’t even pretending to adhere to any sort of uniformity, and there was such a random mix of berries and spices in the mix that the judges weren’t entirely sure what to make of them.

Finally Ori’s were looked up, which had the double miss of being raw on the inside and burnt on the outside, although Sam and Galadriel tried to soften the blow by telling him how much they enjoyed the coconut flavour he had added.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll ace the technical bake.” Bard tried to comfort Ori, squeezing his shoulder as they returned to their stations.

“Technical bake is usually my weakest.” Ori mumbled and Bard resisted the urge to hug him, they really did not know each other well enough for that, nor as Bard entirely sure how to respond to that, but luckily he was saved by Thranduil calling him over, bidding Ori a quick good luck.    

“Yeah?” Bard asked as he reached Thranduil.

“Oh. Nothing, just saving you from the awkward moment you were having there. Although I admit your intentions were noble.” Thranduil smirked, and Bard did not resist the urge to flick flour at him.

Thranduil looked outraged, so naturally Bard gave him his best shit eating grin.

The blonde looked about ready to fling butter back at him, but luckily that was when they started being told about the technical bake.

“What I would like to see from you all now, are eight cinnamon flavoured Arlette biscuits.” Galadriel told them, her technical challenge this week.

“Any advice for our bakers?” Pippin asked her.

“Do not rush.” She informed them, which was easier said than done when you were on a timed baking challenge.

Bard didn’t even know what an Arlette was, and from most people’s faces they weren’t sure either. The only people who looked confident were Sauron (big surprise) and Arwen, which figured given her time in Paris and how French _Arlette_ sounded.

Bard did not believe in god, but if there was one he sorely hoped they made sure Arwen beat Sauron this time round.

“Very informative.” Pippin nodded.

“You have two and a half hours.” Sam announced before he and Galadriel left the tent as always for the technical challenge.

“Right then, on your marks.” Merry started.

“Get set.”

“Bake.”

Everyone except Arwen reached for the method, which was of course, horribly thin when it came to actual instruction.

The first step was just ‘make the dough’. Lovely.

Even Thranduil looked a little less than sure this time round, but ploughing on nonetheless, Bard decided that was probably a better tactic than just standing there staring at the method hoping for the solution to just magically come to him.

There was very little chatting this time round. The instructions, what little instruction there was, went against what common sense would tell you. Such as the butter being wrapped around the dough instead of the other way around. Bard just shrugged and got on with it, as he did most things in life.

Bard grinned to himself when he spotted Arwen very carefully shielding what she was doing from Sauron.

Faramir looked a little panicked, Éowyn looked filled with grim determination, and Ori looked on the verge of a panic attack. Bard decided to stop looking around and focus on his biscuit. He even joined the ranks of the oven sitters for this particular bake.

The two and a half hours rushed by in a haze of rather unsure baking, until Bard was left with slightly puffy cinnamon flavoured swirls, he had no idea if that was what they were meant to look like, at least there were eight and they looked relatively similar.

He was more than a little relieved when they brought up their bakes to sit behind a picture of themselves that Arwen also had swirls, although hers were impressively thin.

The judges came up and tasted each of them, not knowing who they belonged to. Bard’s were apparently nicely buttery but too thick and too soft, considering he had no idea what they were, he was pretty happy with that.

With the sole exception of Arwen, who had blown the judges away with her perfection on this tricky bake, everyone cringed at least once when the judges ate their bake. Even Sauron, that was highly satisfying.

But Bard had definitely made the decision to stay well out of Sauron’s way after he had pulled up today on the back of a motorcycle, plastered to the back of some very dangerous looking guy. The kind of guy that made you think you might want to cross the road and walk on the other side even if it meant diving across a busy street.

They were probably perfect for each other.

In the end, on the technical bake, Ori, Radagast and surprisingly Bilbo took the lowest spots, with Ori coming last. And Arwen trounced them all, making second place very much the first of the losers in this instance.

Then came the showstopper round. This week they were to make a biscuit box filled with thirty six biscuits, but the box and biscuits in the box had to be made of entirely different biscuits. 

Nice and simple then.

Bard had been practicing this one at home, well the little shortbread people, and it had only worked perfectly once, which had been the first time he tried, since they he had deteriorated, the little people insisting on crumbling.

He was hoping to break that trend now.

He was building a gingerbread house with a removable roof so he could pass it off as a box, filled with little shortbread people. Because Tilda had declared that boxes were boring but houses were good – especially edible ones – and it made no sense for normal biscuits to be in a house so they would have to be biscuit people.

And really who was Bard to question such seamless logic.

Once again they all set to work, little time for chatter as they started on their complex creations.

Bard loved watching the showstoppers come together, well he also hated it because they were all just so good and this was a competition. Also it was almost as distracting as Thranduil’s backside which he dearly hoped the cameras had not caught him looking at yet.

Luckily Bard had a fair bit of experience building gingerbread houses as his kids particularly liked them, not having a problem designing, baking or assembling the house, leaving him free to work on the little short bread family.

That was when he noticed Thranduil having some trouble getting his bow to fix together. Bard got his attention by throwing a bit of off-cut gingerbread at his head, making him whip around with a glare that melted off when he realised it had been Bard.

“I have a walnut assistance debt to pay.” Bard reminded him, thinking back to Thranduil’s advice last week.

“Indeed you do.” Thranduil answered, meeting Bard’s playful smile with one of his own.

“Make the icing stickier. Gross for actual icing purposes, but for sticking it all together works a treat, and you can hardly taste it anyway.” Bard advised.

“Thanks.” Thranduil smiled, getting to work. “Although if I kick your ass – which I will by the way – it was totally not down to you giving me that wonderful piece of advice.” Thranduil winked and Bard snorted.

“Sure.” He teased, going back to his shortbread people.

Bard finished his little people and got to decorating the outside of the house, outlining doors and windows with white icing, decorating the rood, tidying it up. By the time he was done he was actually pretty proud of it, even if it wasn’t as fancy as some peoples.

But it also hadn’t crashed and burned like Faramir’s and Ori’s unfortunately had.

Bilbo was up first. He had created a little treasury box made out of gingerbread (as many of them had chosen for the box) and filled it with thirty six pretty perfect looking brandy snaps. Éowyn had made a cylindrical box which was actually rather tricky to do and had filled it with savoury cheese biscuits which got mixed reviews from the judges.

Ori had as moderately collapsed box and rather plain biscuits, although apparently the box tasted divine, just a shame it had fallen down so spectacularly. Bombur’s was delicious if a little overpoweringly chocolatey, it was like a volcano with a lid and filled with chocolate. Beorn got criticised for abusing the honey again, his box was a beehive – a very well designed one – with little honey bite biscuits. 

Faramir had had a bit of a time malfunction and literally had not put his box together, but his tea biscuits were apparently pretty good. Thranduil had designed a gorgeous jewellery box with an amazing pattern of intricate piping on the outside, and the inside filled with vibrant macaroons. Radagast’s box has rabbits on it for no apparent reason, but his box and biscuits could not be faulted for taste by the judges.

Then was Bard’s turn, holding his breath as the judges came up to his gingerbread house.

“That is utterly adorable.” Galadriel smiled, regarding the gingerbread house.

“It has an undeniable cosy feel about it.” Sam smiled and Bard relaxed a little, but was still tense for their taste testing.

“Gingerbread excellent, I honestly cannot fault your house in any way.” Galadriel told him and that was extremely high praise coming from her.

“And these little people, I love that they’re people in a house, brilliant shortbread.” Sam smiled, Galadriel nodding her agreement.

“My daughter pointed out that as it was a house it simply wouldn’t make sense unless there were people inside.” Bard smiled and the other laughed a little.

“Sounds like a wise young lady.” Galadirel smiled, before they moved on to Sauron’s showstopper.

He had somehow managed to create a spherical box, that even opened without breaking, and had mounted it on a stand of neatly decorated gingerbread. The box was glazed red and beautiful but somehow dark patterns danced across it. He’d somehow managed to make a bake seem imposing. Inside were perfectly crafted fortune cookies that spoke in riddles but seemed to be more like misfortune cookies than anything else.   

“It’s a little ostentation.” Sam commented, finding it a bit much.

“It’s showstopping. Isn’t ostentatious the point?” Sauron drawled in a bored tone, actually filing his nails right there and then.

“I guess.” Sam muttered, but of couse he was the judge so if he didn’t like it he didn’t like it and that was that really.

“There is…something about it. Although it must be said that it is a feat of baking.” Galadriel acknowledged, no doubt referring to how he had somehow managed to create a perfect sphere, Sauron clearly knew it was a feat of baking.

“Can’t fault the fortune cookies. Although the messages are a little grim.” Sam pointed out.

“Maybe your fortunes are looking a little grim then.” Sauron answered, asshole as ever.

“Right, well, movin’ on.” Pippin announced, urging the judges on to the final showstopper, belonging to Arwen.

And what a showstopper it was.

Impossibly neat edges on a box glazed so it twinkled in the light, gliding patterns etched into the glazing and highlighted with icing, it looked like a star glimmering in the light. And her delicate cinnamon biscuits simple in ingredients, but delicious, and made to exact replicas of her necklace, decorated like the outer box.

It was beautiful, even Thranduil looked rather enthralled by it.  

The judges disappeared to discuss who would be going home and who would be star baker, leaving the bakers to just wait.

Even if Bard thought he was safe, that in no way stopped the fear that he might be going home anyway, and it apparently showed on his face because Thranduil nudged his shoulder gently.

“Stop fretting Bard, it is one of three people who is leaving and you are none of them.” Thranduil assured, he’d taken his hair down from its ponytail and Bard as a little distracted by a second with how much he wanted to discover how soft it was.

“Don’t you ever get nervous?” Bard asked, amused at his friends – were they friends yet? He rather hoped so – relaxed attitude.

“When my son climbs on high things I am a veritable nervous wreck.” Thranduil smiled fondly and Bard shared it.

“I know the feeling.” Bard agreed, remembering when Sigrid had taken Bard saying that she could do anything if she put her mind to it rather literally and attempted to fly. “My harshest critics are my children.”

“Absolutely. Legolas is possibly the fussiest eater in the entire world.” Thranduil laughed.

“Sounds like he and my Tilda would get along rather well.” Bard replied, wondering if they would ever have the chance to find out.

“Alright bakers, your judges have returned.” Merry announced as they all came back into the room.

Bard had entirely forgotten to be nervous while Thranduil distracted him.

“This week I get the honour of announcing star baker, and really there is only one person it can go to this week.” Pippin started, and they probably all knew who he was talking about. “This week’s star baker is most definitely Arwen.” Pippin grinned as he told them.

Honestly the way they cheered you’d think they’d all won, really they were all just massively relieved it wasn’t Sauron. Arwen was a far more gracious winner than Sauron was a loser, Bard actually thought his hair was going to catch fire at one point, he looked livid.

“I have the less fun task of telling you all who will be leaving us this week. Ori, we’re gunna miss you.” Merry said, sounding genuinely sorry to be losing him.

Ori nodded liked he had seen it coming, and to be honest, they probably all had, it had not been a good set of bakes for him.

“Thank you for having me.” Ori managed a smile, and his words were genuine for sure.

“You are very talented Ori, with a few years of experience you’ll be ready to open your bakery.” Galadriel said, doling out pretty sure sounding life advice and bringing a far truer smile to Ori’s face.

“I’ll certainly come visit.” Sam smiled, and by the time he had been assured of all their support in the future – minus one particular douchcanoe also in the tent – Ori was smiling and laughing with them again.

Then they all stared in a mixture of baffled bemusement and amusement as Ori’s boyfriend arrived to pick him up and turned out to be a tall hulking guy with a gravelly voice and tough as nails exterior. Ori looked like a teddybear next to him.

He briefly introduced himself as Dwalin before scooping up Ori and marching off to the truck he had arrived in. But Bard did not miss the affectionate consoling kisses he paid Ori on the way.

A rather mismatched pair to look at, but not in practice it seemed.

“Of all the things you expect.” Bard muttered, smiling and shaking his head at the retreating couple.

“You live to fight another week.” Thranduil commented with sparkling eyes as they went back to grab some of their things.

“As do you.” Bard grinned back.

“Yes, I am glad.” Thranduil said and Bard could swear Thranduil just blatantly checked him out with an appreciative smile.

“About yourself or me?” Bard laughed, knowing Thranduil – which he was starting to at least – it really could be either.

“Hmm, both I think.” Thranduil answered, then as Bard winked at him cheekily in response, Thranduil laughed and added. “Yes, most certainly both.”

Until next week, Bard thought as they went their separate ways, looking more forward to seeing Thranduil again than anything else.

Okay that was only half true. He still wanted to win. He’d just like it if they both lasted to the finals.

By then he might have actually worked up the courage for a phone number, miracles did happen after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed round two of bake off! 
> 
> You can vote for TWO bakers that you want to see stay in the competition, but there is no need to vote for Bard and Thrandy until the semi’s because I need them for plot and trash reasons, so use your votes on the others for now!
> 
> Please please please vote!


	4. Round Three

Round Three

 

Bread week.

This was good. Bard had always been good at bread. Although now of course it was bound to go horribly wrong just because of that.

Each time the pack of bakers thinned he got more nervous, he had never been at the bottom but he hadn’t been at the top either, floating in the middle of the pack. And while that was fine at first, the middle would become the bottom soon enough.

But still, he was good at bread.

He held onto that as he laced up his apron, glancing around to see how everyone was doing.

Arwen was elegantly tying up her hair, her face kind and focused as ever. Beorn was speaking to Bilbo and really the height difference there was rather amusing to look at. Faramir and Éowyn were laughing together about something, Éowyn swatting Faramir with a tea towel in her laughter. Bombur was eating what looked worryingly like ingredients for his own bake, and Radagast looked rather like he was talking to a hedgehog just outside the tent. Right.

Sauron was technically running late – although if you tried to tell him that he’d probably just sneer at you, not that anyone really tried to talk to him, they had learnt not to bother pretty quickly – because he was only just arriving.

He was being dropped off by a very tall very pale and very dangerous looking man with long dark hair and a look in his eyes that clearly meant bad news. Sauron climbed out the car with a swish of his flaming hair, only to be grabbed by the back of the shirt and bodily pulled back into a kiss that looked almost violent.

But they apparently both enjoyed it.

An amazing amount of relief hit Bard when Sauron’s apparently worse half (which he had doubted possible) drove off and away from the tent. 

“So, bread week.” Thranduil smiled, turning around and leaning on Bard’s countertop.

His trousers were unfairly tight today. Bard wish for a second that he wasn’t at the work station just in front of him (but only for a second because Bard was most certainly enjoying looking, and he might be mad but Thranduil seemed to be enjoying Bard enjoying looking).

“Aye.” Bard smiled right back, nodding his head a little.

“You seem less nervous than usual.” Thranduil observed with a raised eyebrow. “Finally realised that you’re pretty safe in the competition?”

“I’ve just always been good with bread.” Bard answered. “Next week is another matter entirely.”

“Have a little faith in yourself. You’re in this for the long run.”

“Oh? Think I can win?”

“Of course not, I’m going to win. But you’re a definite contender for runner up.” Thranduil smirked and Bard laughed, flicking some flour at him and making him pout. “So mature.” He commented dryly.

“Whatever Thran, you’re going down.” Bard winked, and Thranduil smiled, whether at the fighting spirit or the shortening of his name Bard wasn’t so sure.

Neither of them noticed that the cameras had started rolling and were pointed squarely at them.

“Hello bakers!”

“And welcome to bread week!”

Merry and Pippin started excitedly, startling Bard and Thranduil, making the tall blonde turn around again and Bard to lose his train of thought for a second.

Stupid tight trousers.

“Your first bake of bread week, will be two quick breads, in a hour and a half please.” Galadriel smiled, Bard had practiced these, he was ready for them.

“They will be freeform – which means no tins please.” Sam added, more for the viewers than the bakers as they already knew the parameters, although at some point someone was bound to forget something like that.

“Alright then bakers.” Pippin began with his usual grin.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”  

Bard set to work on his quick breads. Without yeast they would all need to be using either bicarbonate of soda or baking powder and buttermilk to get it to rise, and the quantity of those two things was something that could very easily be gotten wrong. But Bard tried not to think about it, he had managed at home he should be able to manage here as well.

He was adding bacon to his breads which was certainly unusual but he had always thought it worked, but then he might just have weird taste buds.

He seriously needed to stop doubting himself at every turn or this was going to end badly.

Bard did his best to shut down his brain and just get on with it, and for the most part it worked and he got on remarkably well with his bake. He saw a few people kneading their dough and the nice part of him hoped they didn’t overwork it and ruin it, but the tiny voice in his head (which sounded a lot like Thranduil actually) reminded him that this was a competition and he needed to worry about his own bake being the best.

Bard wrung his hands together a little nervously as the judges approached to ask him about his bake.

“So Bard, what have you got for us?” Sam asked, eyes taking in all his ingredients and the look of his bread so far.

“I’ve making some bacon quick breads.” Bard answered, hoping he sounded at least a little more confident than he felt.

Galadriel and Sam both raised their eyebrows at his answer which led to bard beginning to over think everything ten times more than he already was, especially when they wished him good luck – why did that always make it worse?

But the only slight mishap he had was very nearly burning the bed because he got a little distracted staring at Thranduil’s rear in those indecent trousers.

“Bard, do try and remember your bread while you’re ogling me.” Thranduil smirked, making Bard flush read and quickly grab his bake out the oven – which was looking pretty perfect actually.

(Although he had to admit if Thranduil hadn’t jogged him out of his daydreaming he would have forgotten about it for a little bit too long).

The signature bake came to a close and then came the judging, where Bard got his first good look at what everyone else had managed.

Bilbo had come out with some near perfect stilton quick breads that went down a treat with Sam, and Galadriel’s only real criticism was that she didn’t like the smell of stilton, but that didn’t exactly affect the quality of his bake. Bombur had also added cheese to his, only instead of dispersing it through the dough like Bilbo, there were just massive lumps of cheese in the dough, which went down far less well.

Arwen had made the mistake of kneading her dough which had impaired the way it rose and made the bread too close. Sauron had made pesto and garlic quick breads with his typical and irritating level of perfection, Radagast’s had been far too bitter and hadn’t risen properly and was also a bit of a mess to look at in general. Thranduil’s orange and cranberry quick breads had gone down incredibly well with the judges, complimenting pretty much everything about them.

Bard was left speechless when they go to his, they absolutely adored the addition of the bacon and he had apparently baked the breads to utter perfection. Bard lost the thread of their comments when he noticed the soft smile Thranduil was sending his way, and the mouthed ‘well done’ than went along with it.

Éowyn had made chocolate bread topped with salted caramel and the judges hadn’t liked the idea but apparently loved the final product, Faramir had used fig and hazelnut and rye flower which the judges liked the combination of but his buttermilk and bicarb hadn’t been quite in the right amounts and it hadn’t risen quite as it should have, and Beorn had gone down a spicy route adding so many jalapenos that he managed to burn the judges’ mouths (Bard could swear he heard Beorn mutter something about them wishing for honey now).

Next up was the technical bake.

“Right then bakers, for your technical challenge this week I am being a little harsh. I expect four identical, French baguettes from each of you.” Sam informed them.

Baguettes were not easy, and the method they were given was always so vague it was basically useless.

“Any words of wisdom for our bakers?” Pippin asked the judges.

“Good luck.” Galadriel answered serenely.

“Not so much wisdom as vague encouragement but we’ll take it all the same.” Merry nodded.

“I have some words of advice.” Pippin piped up with a grin.

“I suggest everyone ignore whatever he says.” Merry cheeked, earning a glare from his friend.

“If you don’t know what a baguette is, you should just leave now.” Pippin oh so helpfully suggested.

“…Well I guess you’re not actually wrong.” Merry mused. “Anyway, your judges are now leaving.” He announced as Pippin shooed them out of the tent.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Everyone reached for the method they had been left with, even though they knew it would be no help at all. Bard sighed at the unhelpful method and got to work as best he could.

He had actually made baguettes before, but that had been quite a while ago now, he hoped his memory was better than he thought it was.

He remembered that baguette dough had a very high water content and was horribly sticky to handle, he also thankfully remembered that you were supposed to steam them in the oven – although when he was supposed to do that was anyone’s guess really.

Bard just went with it, stretching out his dough and arranging it into baguette shaped pieces, long, thin and as uniform as he could get them (but not as uniform as some of the others could get them unfortunately; how Thranduil, Sauron and Arwen were managing that level of identical perfection was beyond him).

“You need to wash your hands.” Thranduil remarked in one of their respites, Bard’s hands still covered with the sticky dough.

“Agreed.” Bard grimaced at the pretty gross feeling on his hands and started running them under a tap.

Thranduil gestured with his head over to the other side of the room at something, and Bard followed his gaze, coming upon where Éowyn and Faramir were both having some kind of joint nervous breakdown about how the hell to bake a baguette, Bard grimaced in sympathy.

“How are yours coming?” Thranduil asked nonchalantly, twirling a bit of his long beautiful air around his fingers.

“I have no idea, alright I hope.” Bard shrugged before raising his eyebrows and getting a suspicious look. “Why? Do you need some help?”

“Of course not.” Thranduil responded, melodramatically aghast at the mere suggestion. “My baguettes are perfect.” He added with a little ‘harrumph’ noise that made Bard chuckle lightly.

“Sure they are.” Bard grinned teasingly, winding Thranduil up.

Thranduil glared and spun around to return to his station, but Bard gently caught his wrist and tugged him back.

“Don’t forget to steam them in the oven.” Bard whispered into his ear before releasing his wrist with a wink.

Thranduil left him with a dazzling smile as he grabbed some water to steam his baguettes with.

“Do we sense some inter-baker fraternisation going on over here?” Pippin wondered aloud, seeming to materialise next to Bard along with his co-host.

“Just returning a favour.” Bard smiled, even though that was 100% not why he had done it. He tried to keep his voice casual, Merry and Pippin looked completely unconvinced.

He would forever be remembered as that guy from bake-off that was crushing on that other far prettier and more talented guy from bake-off.

“Well, if that’s what you’re calling it.” Merry grinned, leaving Bard sputtering but before he could get out a response to two lively hosts had already bounced out of reach.

Bard tried not to look too embarrassed as he continued baking, and hoped that Thranduil wasn’t going to kill him, although luckily it didn’t look like he had heard.

“You alright Bilbo, you seem a little distracted today.” Bard commented while his baguettes were safely in the oven, a little concerned as Bilbo had sort of been drifting around his own space.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess. Small fight with Thorin – he’s being a prick – and Frodo isn’t very well.” Bilbo explained, before wrinkling his nose and elaborating on Thorin. “He kept asking me to slip masses of chili powder into Thranduil’s bread to ruin it – as if I ever would – and I don’t think he was serious, but he decided to take issue with my utter and immediate refusal anyway.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.” Bard responded, amusement alive in his voice, mainly from the exasperated but entirely begrudgingly loving tone in Bilbo’s.

“Besides, I’ll beat him fair and square, not with chili powder.” Bilbo winked, startling a laugh from Bard as he went back to his own oven.

“And that is time up.” Merry announced just as Bard set his finished baguettes – which looked remarkably like baguettes actually – down.

“Bring your bakes up to the table please.” Pippin asked them, most of them already on their way, placing their bakes behind the photo of themselves.

The judges appeared as they all took a seat in a row facing the judges, Thranduil slipping easily into the one beside Bard. A lot of the bakes lined up did not look very baguette-like it must be said.

The judges were ruthless as they went through the bakes, even actually physically punching the bread to see if it was crunchy enough on the outside and leaving no quarter as they judged the bakes.

Bombur came in last place, his being dubbed more like a badly baked ciabatta than a baguette – not that it stopped Bombur form eating them himself of course.  Then was Éowyn and Faramir who’s bakes got torn to shreds – literally and figuratively – and declared too soft, the wrong shape, unsteamed and scored wrong. Bard noticed the way they were gripping on to each other’s hands between their seats and smiled.

Next was Radagast who had done everything right, except for the fact that none of them were long and thin and they all looked completely different to each other.  Beorn came sixth having made the mistake of not leaving it to prove in the oven for long enough and fifth was Bilbo who’s were far too pale.

Sauron came fourth, having undercooked just very slightly, which left him glowering at everyone. Bard and Thranduil came third and second respectively, leaving them grinning at each other, and Arwen took first place with some pretty perfect looking baguettes, Bard got the feeling she was going to dominate in every bake with French origins.

“No matter what they say, you came second and I came third.” Thranduil murmured as they returned to their places.

“How do you figure that?” Bard chuckled, clearing away some things.

“Because you were the one who reminded me to steam, and if I hadn’t done that I wouldn’t have been anywhere near the top and you know it.” Thranduil told him.

“You’ve done the same for me before.” Bard commented, trying to tamp down both his blush and the urge to kiss the man in front of him.

“Just accept my thank you.” Thranduil pressed.

“Alright, thank you for your thank you.” Bard grinned, making Thranduil roll his eyes, only returning to his counter when the judges began to talk again.

“For your showstopper this time, we would like you to create a three dimensional bread sculpture, using three different kinds of dough.” Galadriel announced.

It sounded scary, but Bard was actually ready for this one, and it had the stamp of approval from all three of his children – which was no easy feat.

“Good luck.” Sam smiled reassuringly.

“Oh your marks.” Merry started.

“Get set.” Pippin joined.

“Bake!” they shouted in unison and Bard immediately got to it, he was going to need every second of the time they got to pull it off.

Bard had succeeded in making this showstopper at home which was a little reassurance, but honestly any number of things could go wrong with this one so he really could not afford to have his attention elsewhere, cutting himself off from being nosey at other people’s bread sculptures.

He even managed to ignore Thranduil’s unfairly tight trousers as he worked.

Bard made all of his dough’s and carefully cut them into the shapes he needed, using the homemade and altered baking trays and tins to make all of the parts, meticulously working with a knife to carve things into shape and weave designs onto the bread.

Bard kept his head down and somehow managed to find time to carve scales into every piece of his sculpture. He was making a dragon out of bread. This would either be amazing or quite literally crumble before his eyes.

He’d given great thought and testing to how he was going to fit all the pieces together, before deciding that making it like a puzzle and sliding it all together was best, and surprisingly structurally sound.

He had even flavoured the bread with spices and hot flavours which added to the dragon effect and had the added bonus of dying the bread a reddish colour.

When Bard stepped back to take a look at the finally finished product after hours of work, he was actually pretty impressed with himself. It was a dragon, the pieces holding together well and done in a way that made it look like one bit of bread.

He even had perfectly placed black berries in the bread to give the dragon dark eyes.

Bard grinned at his creation, only just finishing under the wire, the judges calling time over just as he had taken good look at his bake. Rarely had he been so proud of himself actually.

“That is completely incredible.” Thranduil said quietly into his ear, making bard jump as he hadn’t realised the other man was right behind him, and then making him blush at the words, and the hand that had appeared at the small of his back as Thranduil came to stand next to him.

“Thank you.” Bard smiled, finding Thranduil’s bake and having his own breath stolen away. “Oh my god, how the hell did you do that? It’s beautiful.” Bard exclaimed, loud enough for people to turn and glance at them before shaking their heads in a way that screamed fond exasperation and looked away again.

“I could ask you the same thing. Maybe we should give each other a lesson.” Thranduil smirked.

“Maybe we should.” Bard teased right back.

Thranduil had created a plant and a pot, and maybe it would be fairly forgettable in this competition, were it not for the impossibly realistic markings on the tree, and the handmade leaves handing from it, all uniform yet individual as leaves were. Everything about it was so neat and clean cut, and yet still retained the feel of wildness like nature.

Bilbo had baked his breads into a little house under a hill that did look incredibly cosy, Bombur had just kind of baked a pile of bread, apparently by the time he had remembered what he had planned to do he had already eaten the vital piece and didn’t have time to make it again – the bread that was left was apparently delicious though.  

Faramir had created the ruins of a city in bread form, Éowyn a beautifully plaited ribbon of flower shaped breads twisted into what looked like a wreath. Arwen had managed to create the Eiffel tower and Beorn had made an axe dug into a block of wood. Radagast had made a scruffy – but realistically so – birds nest, complete with little bread birds inside. And unsurprisingly Sauron had come out with another beautiful showstopper – although Bard thought Thranduil’s was actually better, but he may be biased – of a large ring with a snake coiled around it threateningly, as if daring you to try and take it from its owner.    

Bard’s showstopper was actually the last they saw, he almost withered under all the praise that was poured on it, he was so unused to being paid such mind at anything.

“My word this is utterly astounding.” Galadriel murmured, reaching out to touch the dragon and then pulling her hand back as if she feared she would break it.

“I would have no idea how to go about making something like this myself.” Sam told him matter-of-factly and that was impossibly high praise, Bard didn’t know what to say other than thank you, so he said that a lot.

“The welsh dragon?” Galadriel asked with a smile.

“Ahh, no, the dragon in the fairytales I make up for my children before bed.” Bard chuckled. “They dubbed him ‘Smaug the Terrible.” He added, leaving both of the judges and most of the competitors smiling.

With a fair amount of reluctance the judges pulled some pieces off and began eating it.

“Bard this is truly the marvel. The way the flavour is hot feels like dragon fire and just adds and adds to the effect.” Galadriel praised as she gently tore off another piece.

“Incredible. I’m actually a little speechless.” Sam told him, munching on a piece of wing.

Eventually the judges left to go make their decisions, and everyone (minus one bitter Sauron at being outshined) descended on Bard’s dragon, begging to try a piece, which Bard was more than happy to let them do.

“Maybe I’m going to have to up my game if I’m to beat you.” Thranduil said, eyes fluttering slightly at the delicious flavours as he took a bite.

“Maybe.” Bard grinned, feeling a little giddy over the success of his bake and taking a cheeky piece – or indeed leaf – from Thranduil’s own bake, which was of course also delicious.

The judges returned and everyone sat back together in their row facing them, Faramir looking absolutely petrified despite the positivity on his own showstopper, but Éowyn had his arm in hers and that seemed to be helping at least a little.  

“I get the honour this week of announcing star baker, and I’m not going to beat around the bush because after the showstopper I think we all know who it has to go to. So congratulations Bard.” Merry grinned and Bard gaped more than a little disbelieving.

Everyone gave him a little cheer and pat on the back, with Thranduil whispering ‘you deserve it’ and making him blush on national television again – he could only imagine what Thranduil whispering in his ear and making him blush was going to look like on tv.

(Well, Bard says ‘everyone’, but Sauron is not included in ‘everyone’ because he is an asshole and was glaring daggers at Bard stealing his star baker award, but Bard didn’t particular care what Sauron thought because _he had just won star baker)_

“I have the far less enviable task to announcing who is going home, and I am afraid that this week, it’s Bombur.” Pippin added sadly.

Everyone (again not including Sauron who was storming off to meet his unnerving boyfriend) offered Bombur commiserations and grabbed their things to head home, Thranduil falling into step beside Bard as they walked out to the car park.  

Just as Bard was about to say goodbye to his friend – his friend in indecently tight trousers – Thranduil grabbed his hand and scribbled (well, scribbled is beautiful flowing script) some numbers down onto his hand.

“We should organise that lesson.” He winked before sliding into his ridiculous sports car and driving off with a wave.

Bard immediately added the number into his phone, with every intention of calling him tomorrow.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed round three of bake off!
> 
> You can vote for TWO bakers that you want to see stay in the competition, but there is no need to vote for Bard and Thrandy until the semi’s because I need them for plot and trash reasons, so use your votes on the others for now!
> 
> Please please please vote!


	5. Round Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, I'm tired, my chair is uncomfy, I'm on holiday; BUT I WOULD NEVER MISS BAKE OFF
> 
> Enjoy <3

Round Four

 

This week was dessert week and Bard was feeling somewhat less than confident. He had hoped that his star baker victory would bolster him for this week but desserts were not his forte, especially the fiddly and finicky ones he knew they would be doing today, let alone whatever horrible thing they were bound to set as the technical bake.

Bard had been practicing the signature and showstopper that he knew about all week. He had failed to get either of the bakes perfect in practice at home which never left him feeling good going into the competition, and how embarrassing would it be if he went from being star baker to being sent home the next week. He was worried last week was a fluke – well not with bread he was good at bread – but with the whole baking thing in general.

God he had hoped to get at least half way, that was respectable. Of course just being on the show was respectable, but still. He just really did not want to go home this week.

All this was running through Bard’s head when a silky smooth voice murmured into his ear.

“You look like you’re about to have an aneurism. Please calm down.”

“Alright for you.” Bard grumbled. “You’re clearly confident about this week.”

“What makes you say that?” Thranduil asked, as I he wasn’t looking all infuriatingly suave and put together and calm again.

He had even looked that way when Bard had dared to send him a message last week with his newly acquired number and had ended up with Thranduil around his house with his small son and them baking together. Thranduil had looked so sophisticated even with flour smudged on his far (courtesy of Tilda).

Bard had no idea if that had been some kind of date or not, there were too many children running around for it to have been a real date, and yet Bard had kind of had a feeling it was supposed o be a date.

Crap maybe he was supposed to have got a sitter or something.

But then again Thranduil had seemed relieved when his sitter bailed that he could just bring Legolas with him.

“You look all composed as usual.” Bard replied, gesturing a little randomly at Thranduil’s general everything.

“Exactly Bard, as usual, I assure that last week I was panicking somewhat.” Thranduil answered, flipping his hair up into an immaculate ponytail that put Bard’s messy bun to shame.

“I refuse to believe it.” Bard protested, and that made Thranduil laugh which really was a lovely sound.

“You’ll just have to take my word for it.” Thranduil assured, trying his apron around his back, reminding Bard that in his worried state he had actually completely forgotten his own.

Great start.

He was throwing his own on just as their judges and presenters came into the tent.

Oh god, this was going to go badly, he could tell.

“Good morning bakers.

“And welcome to dessert week.”  Merry and Pippin greeted with one of their big smiles that usually managed to at least sort of put Bard at ease, but not this week apparently.

“For your signature bake this week, you are going to be making twelve, identical, crème brûlée’s.” Sam informed them, which was really more for the audience than for the bakers, although the reminder was always nice he supposed.

“We would like you to bake them traditionally, which means no use of blow torches to finish off the crème brûlée’s.” Galadriel added, which really was going to make the final bit very difficult to judge correctly, as if crème brûlée’s were easy to begin with.     

“You have two hours.” Sam smiled kindly.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!” Merry and Pippin shouted in unison and off they went once again.

Twelve identical crème brûlée’s, twelve identical crème brûlée’s. Something Bard had not managed to get right yet. Excellent.

Bard took a deep breath and got started.

Custard, that was the key part. Of course it wasn’t as simple as they it needed to be set just right or the middle would be raw but it also needed to not turn into scrambled egg which seemed worryingly possible and had definitely happened a couple of times at home.

God he was definitely freaking out.

He was half way through making his custard badly and wondering if he should just leave now and save himself the heartache when there was a warm hand on his own.

“Bard. Calm. Down.” Thranduil demanded, tone brokering no room for arguemtn whatsoever.

“Right, yeah, get it together, I agree.” Bard nodded a little less frantically, before turning his eyes on Thranduil’s hand.

“Well it was that or slap you around the face, so I thought this was preferable.” Thranduil reasoned and Bard had to agree really.

“Yeah, good shout.” Bard agreed, Thranduil offering him a smile before turning back to his own bake.

Once again Bard missed the camera trained on them and the snickering presenters.

The crème brûlée’s had to be cooked bain marie which was a pain and you were supposed to wobble them to see if they had the right amount of wobble to try and determine if they were set or not which was ridiculous because how on earth do you accurately measure wobble.

Desserts were not Bard’s forte.

He had gone for a simple rhubarb and custard flavour with a ginger base, hoping that by keeping that simple and not having to worry about that too much he might be able to actually produce twelve identical crème brûlée’s.

Identically horrible most likely.

The crème brûlée’s were most definitely not set which was a problem because he really did not have very much time left and was seriously considering just sticking his head in the oven.

But either way he needed to get them out and start the process of making the caramelised sugar on top which without a blow torch was seriously hard to do without overcooking the crème brûlée’s. Although Bard was pretty sure he didn’t need to worry about that as they hadn’t even bloody well set.

Bard just sighed and resigned himself to his fate as Merry called time over.

At least the caramelised sugar on top looked good, even if the inside was terrible.

As everyone bought their bakes up one by one to be judged, Bard realised that he hadn’t actually spoken to anyone else other than Thranduil today because he had been too busy panicking, which would be excusable (because of the aforementioned panic) unless this did indeed turn out to be his last week in which case it would just be poor form if he was antisocial as well as being terrible at desserts.

Sauron went first and had produced twelve eerily identical and completely perfect crème brûlée’s. Asshole. Then was Arwen with vanilla and blackberry which she had managed to make work perfectly, but she wasn’t at all smug or an asshole about doing well so Bard really didn’t mind. Beorn had or course added honey to his which for a change went down rather well even if they did once again ask him to please try and branch out a bit with his flavours, but unfortunately they weren’t actually quite set right.

Bilbo had gone for various berries and a slight cinnamon blend to his flavouring which was apparently also close to perfect. But Radagast’s were an unmitigated disaster much like Bards, only where Bard’s were utterly unset, Radagast’s were basically scrambled egg. Thranduil’s were close perfect, with almond and almond liqueur flavouring and he really did do his best to make Bard feel better after the judges ripped his crème brûlée’s apart (horrifyingly literally).

Éowyn’s were also a bit not good, having burnt the crème brûlée’s when trying to do the caramelised sugar, her wobble test had also not been great, burnt on the outside and undercooked on the inside, never a good combination. Faramir actually did very well, the main issue being that they didn’t like the flavour combination, but other than that the crème brûlée’s actually looked pretty good, holding their shape well, cooked perfectly and the caramelised sugar on top looking rather flawless. 

Bard was very relieved that that was over.

That was until they announced the technical bake and Bard had never even heard of a Spanische Windtorte.

Galadriel elaborated that it was a meringue cake which helped a little (unlike the method which literally said things like ‘make swiss meringue. Make French merigngue. Make circles.’ Right. Very helpful.

This time they had four hours for Bard to fail to make a bake.

They set to work again once the judges had left and on Merry and Pippin’s mark. Bard wasn’t even entirely sure what the difference between a Swiss and French meringue. 

That was until Thranduil who was apparently a mind reader turned around and told him.

“Swiss meringues are the ones that are like marshmallows in texture, that’s why it’s for decoration, but make sure you don’t overcook it and keep it white and glossy on the outside.” Thranduil explained, twirling around to tell him presumably after noticing Bard had been staring at the recipe for ten minutes without moving.

“You probably aren’t supposed to be helping me that much.” Bard said, but he was smiling all the same and frankly could kiss Thranduil right then and there for telling him that because now this was actually looking doable.

“You just have to promise to help me when we get to pie week.” Thranduil winked and frankly Bard was so grateful that he would actually bake his pie for him if he asked.

Seriously why couldn’t it be pie week, he was good at pies.

“Or you could let me take you out to dinner.” Bard blurted before he lost his nerve (and before he got booted from the competition).

“Ask me when we’re not in the middle of a time restricted complicated meringue bake.” Thranduil laughed back but he was smiling so Bard wasn’t worry.

About that anyway, he was definitely freaking out about his place in the competition. 

“You’re right, bad timing.”

“You’re just trying to distract me so you can win.” Thranduil smirked, juggling speaking with Bard and separating his eggs.

“One, I would never stoop so low, and two, I really don’t think you need to worry this week.” Bard laughed a little self depreciatingly.

“You’ll be fine Bowman, just concentrate.” And with a flip of his hair Thranduil was back to his bake.

Bard tried. No one could say he hadn’t tried.

And it wasn’t over cooked at least, it did have a nice glossy white colour, but the piping was a mess because he’d been in such a hurry but then and he had entirely forgotten to make a disk to top it with and the little violets were all different shapes and sizes and it looked a bit lopsided in general. Oh well, maybe it tasted alright.

He set it down behind the picture of himself and retreated to the line of chairs. Thranduil took his usual seat beside him, and Bilbo appeared in the one on his other side.

“You alright Bard? You looked like you were having a bit of a wobble.” Bilbo asked, concern in his voice clear.

“It’s not going well mate.” Bard grimaced and Bilbo gave him his best little nudge in an attempt to bolster him.

“You don’t need to do well Bard. You just need someone else to do even worse than you. We will all have a weak week, be grateful that yours is when there are still plenty of people around, so you stand more of a chance of it being somebody else’s weak spot as well.” Thranduil reasoned and that really did make an awful lot of sense, but it just felt too harsh to think about it like that.

“I guess.” Bard agreed, grimacing inwardly as the judges came back into the tent.

Luckily – or unluckily depending on how you look at it – Bard was not the only one who had had a moderate disaster. Beorn, Radagast and Éowyn had all had varying levels of mishaps with their own bakes, overcooking, losing structural integrity (aka, it fell down) and getting the different kinds on meringues mixed up.

The placing’s ended up being, Radagast in last place, followed by Beorn, then Bard, Éowyn, Bilbo, Faramir, Arwen, Thranduil and in first place Sauron. Asshole.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” Thranduil said as they wandered back to their baking stations.

“Alright for you to say, Mr. Second Place.” Bard replied, but if anything it was fond and proud rather than bitter.

“On day I will defeat that asshole. But apparently not today.” Thranduil grumbled to himself, Bilbo laughing knowing as well as Bard exactly who they were talking about.

“I think my nephew could give him a run for his money.” Bilbo announced, brushing some stray flour off his little casual waistcoat.

“Didn’t you say Frodo was five.” Thranduil snorted, well, if thranduil ever lowered himself to snorting that is, so it was more of an amused noise than a snort.

“He shows great promise!” Bilbo protested.

“Well, so long as Oakenshield doesn’t ruin him first. You can do so much better Bilbo.” Thranduil bemoaned, Bard swatted him in the arm for being rude.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.” Bilbo muttered, heading back to his own space.

Scanning about the room Bard had a little nosey at everyone for the first time this week, having been too wound up in his baking struggles earlier to do it, Thranduil leant on the counter net to him and joined him in his semi-spying and not at all stealthy look around.

“How long do you think it’s going to be before he works up the courage to ask her out?” Thranduil asked quietly, gesturing towards where Éowyn was laughing at something Faramir had just said, much to his delight.

“It certainly won’t be before she just asks him out herself.” Bard answered, she seemed like the kind of girl to just go for it, he hoped he was right, Thranduil was nodding gently in agreement anyway.

Sauron looked like he was having some kind of argument down the phone from his steely expression, Bard did not want to get anywhere near whatever that was. Arwen was smiling and trading stories with Bilbo and Beorn. And Radagast appeared to be talking to himself, but then that wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, maybe there was a bird nearby or something.

“Alright bakers. Time for the showstoppers.” Pippin grinned at them after their little respite.

“You have four and a half hours to produce a three tiered cheesecake creation.” Sam smiled, and Bard took a deep breath, he had practised this, it was at least edible if never perfect.

“Three different cheesecakes, three different sizes. You have four and a half hours.” Galadriel reiterated for them.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Merry and Pippin set them off and once again the baking commenced.

Bard had taken drastic measures with this one, he had simplified it, he was only going to make one flavour of cheesecake even though he knew everyone else would be going all out and doing three separate flavours. Bard was not good enough at cheesecake to attempt that. So they were all going to be elderflower with a pasty base in various different sizes to make the tiers, and if that went well, he would make some macaroons to go alongside it.

It wasn’t going to be stopping any shows, but it shouldn’t fall apart either, so he would settle.

Everything was going pretty smoothly for the first three and a half hours of baking, until everyone started to smell something burning and there was a high pitched shout of various profanities coming from Arwen who was pulling out three completely burnt cheesecakes.

And not just a little burnt. Completely blackened and utterly destroyed.

That was rather incredibly unlike her.

Everyone froze for a second to watch her, she was looking at the dial on the oven.

“Someone has turned this up.” She stated simply.

“How can you be sure?” Beorn asked, coming over to stand beside her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Because there is no way in hell I would do something as stupid as try to cook a cheesecake on 300°C.” Arwen answered managing to stay remarkably cool even as she moved a pretty deadly glare onto Sauron.

Who was incidentally smirking at his station.

Arwen didn’t bother to accuse him, they all knew what had just happened and they all knew that none of them could prove it.

Maybe they would have caught him on the tapes for the live show, but I was going to take them a little while to look through it all, and somehow Sauron didn’t seem like the kind to get caught easily.

“Next time you should be more careful, clearly.” Sauron said nonchalantly and Arwen had to grab Beorn to stop him laying into Sauron right there and then.

Arwen came over to them, which was a surprise, they hadn’t spoke to her very much.

“Do me a favour.” Arwen said to Thranduil.

“Oh?” Thranduil responded with a raised eyebrow.

“Destroy him in the showstopper.”

“With pleasure.” Thranduil smirked, giving her a wink and leaving her smiling as she went back, somehow still composed, and made a simple single cheesecake.     

Thranduil did one better, and he absolutely destroyed all of them. Three perfectly made cheesecakes all different flavours of herbs, the apple and tarragon was hailed as genius by Galadriel. To top off the perfect flavours, it was wonderfully decorated and made to look like a cascading waterfall of earthy colours.

He smirked at Sauron as the judges gushed over it.

Bard’s was received as he expected, they had wanted a bit more from him in the time given, but it was well made and tasted good, so he wasn’t at the very bottom of the pile at least. Bilbo had created a sort of berry cheesecake tower which was generally well received, Beorn had actually not used honey, instead opting for various alchol flavours, the brandy one going down a treat, but the jager bomb level less so, (Beorn just shrugged, he liked it).

Faramir had recreated his favourite chocolate bars in cheesecake form (reeces pieces, bounty and crunchie incidentally) and it had gone down a treat (literally and figuratively). Éowyn had pulled off a similar construction, with each cheesecake being flavoured as a different fizzy drink, and the judges were so impressed that she managed to actually get one layer to taste like cream soda that they were blown away by it.

 Arwen’s single cheesecake was met with well dones and understanding looks – again they might not be able to prove it but they all knew what had transpired. Radagast had not managed his time very well and his final tier had not made it on top of the pile yet, sitting to the side instead as they hadn’t set properly and would have just collapsed.

But the best part was that Sauron’s was actually not perfect. The top cheesecake was not quite set and the mango was not well received. Maybe if he spent less time sabotaging other people he would do a little better.  

“Okay bakers, decisions have been made. And I have the much preferable job of announcing start baker this week.” Pippin announced after a little while, most of which spent with everyone (except Sauron obviously) surrounding Arwen and shooting glares at Sauron, who really didn’t seem to care, in fact he was genuinely filing his nails.

“Your star baker this week finally managed to produce something more perfect than his hair. It is of course, Thranduil.” Pippin grinned and Thranduil actually had the decency to look surprised, not letting Bard’s hand go when he squeezed it in congratulations.

“I have the far less good task of announcing who will be leaving us today.” Merry started and Bard held his breath harder than usual. “And I am very sad to say we will be saying goodbye to Radagast.”

Bard was completely relieved and rather disappointed at the same time, he liked Radagast, he was an odd one.

The usual commiserations were said and Sauron was already tearing off in his boyfriend’s car and they could all hear the pair of them laughing.

“So.” Thranduil smiled as Bard started packing away his things. “About that dinner date.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed round four of bake off!
> 
> You can vote for TWO bakers that you want to see stay in the competition, but there is no need to vote for Bard and Thrandy until the semi’s because I need them for plot and trash reasons, so use your votes on the others for now!
> 
> Please please please vote!


	6. Round Five

 

Free from baking, by some quirk of fate, Bard was actually rather good at free from baking because whenever it was one of his kids’ birthday, he would bake something for them to bring into class, and there was always a kid in class who was allergic to something, so he had learnt to adapt.

But looking around at the other faces entering the tent, he might be the only one feeling good about free from baking.

Not that he had any idea what horrible thing they would throw at them for the technical bake. That had the potential to be rather cruel (when was it not really).

But still he was feeling good, which was a welcome change to the disaster that was last week. In fact he was feeling especially good because he was still riding the high of taking Thranduil out to dinner a couple of nights ago and Bard was certainly hoping that there would be a second date on the cards, he was thinking picnic in the park if the weather permitted.

Bard grinned as he saw Thranduil enter the tent, looking perfect as ever. Bard gave him a smile, expecting Thranduil to come over and join him as he usually did, only get get an imperiously raised eyebrow, sour expression, and a dismissive flick of his hair as Thranduil turned his back to Bard.

What the hell had he done?

Last he remembered he had been driving Thranduil back to his place, and told him they should do it again soon, and Bard was always awkward at goodbyes, even more so at the end of a date (if his memory of when he had been trying to woo his wife served, which he was sure it did) but it hadn’t been that bad. Not enough to illicit such a stony attitude from Thranduil.

So Bard just stood at his station staring at Thranduil’s back with a very confused expression painted over his face.

“Trouble in paradise?” Bilbo asked, voice low enough that Thranduil shouldn’t hear, as he came to stand with Bard.

“Apparently.” Bard mumbled, brain working overtime analysing their dinner to try and work out what unforgivable sin he had apparently committed and coming up with nothing.

“What did you do? You must’ve done something.” Bilbo reasoned, before scrunching up his face. “Then again sometimes Thorin goes off in a huff for no discernable reason, so who knows.”   

“Although I think if he heard us comparing him to Thorin that would bee considered a first class crime.” Bard muttered and that got Bilbo laughing and nodding his head in agreement.

“And vice versa I have no doubt.” Bilbo added, which was, Bard imagined from the way Thranduil bitched about Thorin, completely true. “Well I wish you luck, with the baking and the drama queen.” Bilbo said, making his way back to his own kitchen segment as the judges and presenters came into the tent.

Bard almost forgot to listen to what they were saying because he was too busy being utterly dumbfounded by the cold shoulder he was getting, managing to tune in before Galadriel said anything too important (he hoped).

“...keep that in mind today. First off we would like you to bake a cake, it can be any size, shape and flavour you desire.” She told them serenely.

“But you can’t use any sugar.” Sam added with a serious look.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Merry and Pippin set them off and Bard got started, forcing his mind on task and away from Thranduil, which was proving far harder than it should be really, and it didn’t help that Thranduil was constantly in the periphery of his vision and therefore the periphery of his thoughts as well.

He was making a pineapple upside-down cake with agave nectar to replace the sugar, he had been making it for years now and had never had a problem with it, and he didn’t expect one now either, although he was adding a dash of rum which he usually didn’t get to do because he usually made it for the kids and somehow it just felt wrong to serve little kids rum cake, even if the alcohol was cooked off.

It was relatively easy and soon enough the cake was in the oven, having had no problems not using the sugar he usually would.

While it was baking Bard let his mind wander back to their dinner date and desperately tried to come up with what it was he had done wrong. He wasn’t sure what was more distracting, trying to work that out, or the glorious smell of various berries that was coming from Thranduil’s station.

“What did you do.” Beorn’s gruff voice demanded and made Bard jump while Thranduil was gliding off to fetch something and safely out of hearing range.

“I don’t _know_.” Bard answered, getting rather distressed by the whole thing, the tent didn’t feel right to him with Thranduil pissed at him.

“Well I suggest you find out and fix it.” Beorn stated, as if that wasn’t exactly what Bard was attempting to do.

“Why is everyone so invested in us?” Bard grumbled, checking on his cake, even though he knew full well it wasn’t done yet.

“Because you’re the reason the ratings are so good, everyone wants to know if you two get it together.” Éowyn grinned, appearing alongside Beorn, apparently having been eavesdropping.

“You don’t check twitter do you Bard.” Arwen smiled, joining their little group, apparently everyone was on a baking pause, or just way too interested in Bard’s private life.

“Do I look like I check twitter?” Bard deadpanned, making the group laugh while Beorn was asking what on earth a twitter was. “Besides, I would think they were more interested in you and Faramir.” Bard deflected the attention away from himself and onto Éowyn, who blushed.

Faramir was not with them because he seemed to be doing something overly complicated with some kind of syrup.

“Who knows.” Éowyn answered vaguely.

“It’s pretty obvious.” Bilbo threw in on his way past from grabbing something from the fridge.

“He’s right.” Bard agreed and this seemed all Éowyn needed to bring some steely determination into her eyes.    

They all went back to their ovens, pulling their cakes out and testing them – Bard’s was done so he had plenty of time to let it cool – and was able to return to agonising over exactly why Thranduil was mad at him.

“Are we allowed to be nosey?” Pippin grinned, seeming materialising next to him.

“Would it even stop you if I said no?” Bard asked, amusement in his voice.

“Probably not, can I eat this?” Merry asked, holding up an offcut, Bard nodded and brushed all the bits they could eat without actually eating his bake into a pile and immediately started stuffing their faces.

“So.” Pippin started with a mouthful of sponge. “What did you do?”

“I really wish people would stop asking me that.” Bard griped a little. “Because I have no fucking clue.”

“Do us a favour and use words we can actual air.” Merry snorted and Bard stored the knowledge that if he swore they couldn’t air it, that might come in handy at some point.

“Fine, I have no clue, better?” Bard said again, making the presenters snort.

“Much. And then figure it out. No point have a camera perpetually trained on the two of you if nothing is evening happening.” Pippin told him, the two off them disappearing, probably to find more offcuts to eat.

It was a slightly terrifying thought that they had a camera dedicated to the two of them. They should dedicate it to Sauron instead to stop the douchenozzle sabotaging any more bakes.

What was quite fun today was the annoyed look Sauron had plastered on his eerily pretty face, which hopefully meant that he was finding it a little difficult to cook without certain ingredients. Or he just couldn’t fathom why he should have to cook without sugar.

“Alright bakers, you only have five minutes left. I’m not going to sugar coat it.” Pippin announced then proceeded to laugh at his own sugar joke with Merry.

The judges called time and they set their bakes on the end of their work counters, everyone listening in to find out how each other did.

And it was a rather mixed bag. Thranduil had done well with his berry cake, substituting agave nectar for the sugar like quite a few of them had, and presenting the judges with a multi-tiered cake, each layer a different berry flavour. Beorn also had a great sucess, unsurprisingly using honey to replace the sugar (which was fine) and proving just how good he really was at honey cakes, although the slight criticism he got was that he had already baked them a honey cake in the competition, Beorn grumbled about all the things that were different about the honey cakes he had made.

Bilbo had had some trouble with this one, his use of pears in the cake not being well received taste-wise and the ginger apparently being drowned out, which left Bilbo with a disappointed expression. Arwen’s cake was possibly the neatest thing Bard had ever seen, decorated with little edible flowers, a polenta cake with grapefruit and honey syrup that the judges couldn’t get enough of, the only cake that did better than her’s on the taste front was Bard’s, although Arwen’s was definitely prettier.

Sauron’s cake was bland and tasteless despite the nuts he had added because he simply hadn’t bothered to replace the sugar with anything at all, and just stood there bitching about why on earth he would ever even want to bake a cake without sugar as he was judged. Éowyn floundered a little bit with her carrot cake, having thrown so many things into the mix that the flavour was muddled and the whole thing felt a little sticky, and Faramir had done pretty well with his Genoese sponge, replacing the sugar with molasses and having found the time to make a white tree out of glazing to stand on top.

As they all returned to their station Bard tried to get Thranduil’s attention, draw him into conversation so that he could finally find out what it was he had done, but he only got a look that told him Thranduil clearly thought that he ought to know what he had done without needing to be told.

“It’s time to get technical.” Merry announced, rubbing his hands together conspiratorially.

“We would like you to bake for us, twelve identical, gluten free, pita breads.” Sam announced.

Bread without gluten.

“You have two hours.” Galadriel finished, that really didn’t seem like enough because even if gluten free bread wasn’t hard enogh Bard had precisely no clue how to make a pita bread, and from the faces of the other bakers, neither did they.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Merry and Pippin set them off once again and instead of bursting into action like they usually did, everyone starting pouring over the only marginally helpful method they had been given.

There was a little see-though plastic food bag they had all been given with some brownish powder inside, the bag was labelled psyllium powder, whatever the hell that was. He figured from the method as he slogged his way through it that psyllium powder was what was replacing the gluten because as he mixed it it became gelatinous, it also smelt pretty questionable. But so long as it did the job, Bard wasn’t bothered.

He put the dough in the proving oven, guesstimating that about forty-five minutes should be about the right amount of time, and he could always put it in for a little longer if need be, although he really didn’t want to end up running out of time.

He decided his best bet was to just follow the instructions (minimal as they were) to the best of his ability and hope for the best. So he pulled them out of the proving oven when he thought they were probably ready (not that he had any idea what they were supposed to look like at this stage, and started pulling the dough apart to shape into twelve (hopefully) identical pita breads, at least he knew what a pita bread looked like as Sigrid was fond of them in her lunchbox.

He pushed and pulled and moulded them into ovals and Merry and Pippin were announcing the time left along with a joke about the pit-ta-patter of tiny breads. Bard then placed them back in the proving drawer and hoped for the best.

“Baker’s try not to fall into a pit-a despair, but you only have ten more minutes.’ Pippin said, making himself and Merry laugh again and Bard would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the pita puns at least a little bit.

He took his pitas out of the proving drawer and was pleasantly surprised by what he saw a nice sized and coloured set of pitas that were also blissfully uniform.

Merry and Pippin called time and everyone brought their bakes up to sit behind their photo, sitting down in a line to await the judges tastings.

Bard couldn’t help but droop when for the first time Thranduil did not take the seat next to him, instead opting for one at the end of the row, on the left of Beorn, Bard ending up sandwiched between Bilbo and Faramir.

What on earth had he done on that date?

Some people had tanked their pita challenges, notably Beorn, Arwen and Sauron (who was still whining about why he would ever cook without gluten). Bilbo, Bard and Faramir took the top three places, Faramir looking like he didn’t quite believe it as his pita’s were declared to be the best, Bard clapped him on the back and Éowyn convinced him how good they were but nicking three and eating them herself.

Then came the showstopper round.

Dairy-free ice-cream rolls, somehow made to look ‘showstopping’, in four and a half hours.

Bard was opting for peanut butter flavoured ice-cream which sounded dubious but actually tasted pretty good and immediately got to work making it to be sure it would have set in time.

Bard spotted Beorn speaking to Thranduil at the fridge and wondered if Beorn was doing a bit of reconnaissance for him on what exactly he had done wrong, because it really was starting to bother him, well, it had been bothering him from the beginning, but it was only getting worse the more time passed.  

Still, Bard forced himself to drag his thoughts away from the Thranduil problem to focus on the far more pressing problem of his dairy free ice-cream roll. He was going to coat it in chocolate and use a classic strawberry jam inside, which he thought went well with the peanut butter, but then he thought chocolate went well with beef so sometimes his taste in taste could be rather questionable.

His sponge had just turned a lovely light golden colour when Beorn turned up beside him, almost making him drop the baking tray.

“It’s what you didn’t do. He’s annoyed ‘cause you didn’ kiss him at the end of your date. He says you ‘left him hanging by the door’.” Beorn told him before leaving just as abruptly, his tone one that clerly said he thought they were both complete imbiciles.

And okay.

Thinking back on it. Bight might have done that.

God he was so bad at dating. How he had ever convinced his wife to marry him was a complete mystery.

At least this should be fixable.

In a rare pause-able moment during his bake, he tried to speak to Thranduil again, this time starting with an apology but Thranduil was clearly still not listening.

God this man was going to be a lot of work. It was okay though because he was pretty certain it was going to be worth it.

On to plan b then.

Which involved him getting on with his bake and trying to catch Thranduil after, otherwise he was going to end up getting ejected from the competition which really wouldn’t help.   

He spread the jam over the sponge and rolled it around the ice-cream, blissfully without cracks. He had inlaid designs into the set of his sponge, scenes from one of the bed time stories he told his children and carefully painted the scene in with chocolate, a little town on a lake in wintertime, he thought it looked rather good and thanked the universe for his steady hands.

Their time ran out just as Bard was doing his finishing touches, the ice-cream not melting just yet which was a bonus.

Faramir went first this time and his bake was an absolute triumph, coconut ice-cream with a strawberry mousse running through the centre, perfectly wrapped in strawberry jam and his golden brown sponge, decorated with a tropical scene, even a little edible palm tree, the sponge made to look like real sand. Bard’s was also praised, Galadriel loving the way she could practically read the events of the story from his decoration, and the ice-cream being a good flavour and set well in the middle.

Arwen had made passion fruit ice-cream with and decorated it with intricate swirling patterns inlaid into the sponge that Bard had no idea how she had managed in the given time. Bilbo had gone for chocolate, turning it into log with flakes of chocolate around it and adding some flourishes with edible moss (Bard was going to have to ask him how he did that) and a couple of figures sitting on the log.

Sauron although still bitching about dairy-free ice-cream and why they had to do it, had managed to make an ice-cream that actually had a fiery taste to it (god know how he had managed that) and was so cylindrical it looked unnatural, but it was unfortunately also apparently very good, even if the judges did seem loathe to admit it. Beorn had not left his ice-cream (honey flavoured of course) to chill for long enough and the whole thing had sort of collapsed and was a little tragic to look at, not that Beorn seemed fussed, swiping a finger through it and tasting it, shrugging and declaring that he thought it was good at least.

Éowyn had had a bit of a bad moment and had failed to realise the difference between a Swiss roll and an ice-cream roll, although apparently it was an exceptional Swiss roll. Thranduil’s was beautifully decorated with trees and flowers, the woodland-y theme that he seemed to gravitate naturally towards and was very good at achieving.

The jusges disappeared off to make their decisions, leaving the bakers alone again and Bard tried for the third time to speak to Thranduil only for his phone to ring (and it was at least a genuine call), and the judges and presenters were back before he got another chance to speak to the troublesome blonde.

“Decisions have been made, and I get to tell you the good news of who is our star baker this week.” Merry grinned, looking very happy about this particular decision. “Our star baker this week is someone who just needs to believe in himself a little more, and if this doesn’t do it I don’t know what will.”

“Except maybe a certain blonde young lady simply telling him so.” Pippin muttered and Bard grinned, managing to catch his words, realising who they meant.

“So congratulations Faramir!” Merry beamed happily, Faramir looking a little stumped for words until Éowyn shoved him and smiled and him and suddenly a face-breaking smile washed across his face and he bundled her up into a hug.

“I have the much less nice task of announcing who is going home, and I am afraid to say that this week we’re saying goodbye to Beorn.” Pippin added regretfully and everyone but Sauron looked glum, Beorn was so refreshing to have around, if only Sauron had messed up his showstopper, they probably could have gotten rid of him instead.

“Go fix it.” Beorn glared at him just as Bard was opening his mouth to give his commiserations.

Bard nodded and turned on his heel.

“Thran, wait.” Bard called, but of course Thranduil pretended he hadn’t heard, honestly he was acting like a spurned teenager right now. “Oh for goodness _sake_.” Bard exclaimed, grabbing Thranduil’s wrist, turning him around and pulling him forward into a kiss.

And what a kiss it was.

Thranduil recovered from his surprise in moments, burying his hands into Bard’s hair and sighing into him as Bard kissed him thoroughly, like he apparently should have done the other night.

“I am sorry for not kissing you. But you know you could’ve just kissed me instead.” Bard pointed out, pulling back from the kiss and ignoring everyone (and the intrusive camera) watching them.

Thranduil blushed and mumbled out an apology before leaning forward or another kiss.

They eventually had to part because Merry and Pippin’s wolf whistling was getting increasingly loud and Bard really did want to say a proper farewell to Beorn.

When Bard got home he jumped on Amazon and bought Thranduil a present.

A ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed round five of bake off!
> 
> You can vote for TWO bakers that you want to see stay in the competition, but there is no need to vote for Bard and Thrandy until the semi’s because I need them for plot and trash reasons, so use your votes on the others for now!
> 
> Please please please vote!


	7. Round Six

 

Bard felt good about this week, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was on a high from last week’s ending and the two dates he and Thranduil had been on in the past week – both ending with kisses of course, Bard had learnt his lesson.

Thranduil had suggested they drive in together, Thranduil having to drive near Bard on his way anyway, and at the time Bard had thought it sounded like a great idea, but now they were getting wolf whistled at by their fellow bakers – with ring leaders Merry and Pippin of course – as they climbed out Thranduil’s car.

Bard flipped them all of, much to their own amusement, and Thranduil looked caught between rolling his eyes and glaring.

They’d talked through pastry week, they’d even practiced their showstoppers and signature bakes in Thranduil’s obscenely large kitchen while the kids played in the living room. There were only two things worry Bard, and he had a feeling they were at least mildly concerning Thranduil as well; one, they had no idea what the technical bake would be, and two, everyone that was left really was exceptionally good at baking.

“Fun night?” Éowyn teased as the two of them wandered into the tent ready for the day of baking.

“He picked me up this morning.” Bard insisted and he knew the others were deliberately winding him up with their sarcastic nods and ‘of course he did’s’, so naturally he threw a handful of flour at them.

The four of them – because honestly Sauron was neither welcome nor ever going to get involved with their camaraderie – paused for a moment in flour-covered stunned silence and Thranduil burst out laughing at them, placing a kiss on Bard’s cheek for good measure as well as Éowyn, Faramir, Arwen and Bilbo glared at them with slightly floury faces. 

Really it had only been a single handful of flour, even if Bard did have rather large hands that still wasn’t exactly very much at all. But he honestly should not have been at all surprised when he and Thranduil promptly had four different handfuls of flour lobbed at them in retaliation.

There was a very brief pause before everyone apparently decided it was every man or woman for themselves and started hurling baking ingredients at each other, but Bard was certain it was either Merry or pippin who threw the first egg and that was when it started to get really messy. And god they were cooking with all sorts this week and Bard got a face full of berries at one point and was that a mushroom in Arwen’s hair?

Bard and Thranduil were ducked down for cover behind his work station, frequently popping up to hurl various foods at the others, and getting hit a fair amount despite their hiding place – someone had seriously good aim. And they were squealing and shouting and laughing until their stomach’s hurt and it was quite probably some of the most fun Bard had had in his entire life.

Bard was fairly certain this was the first time there had ever been a food fight on Bake Off, and of course the dedicated camera crew caught it all on film.

(But they also caught some sugar in their hair).

It was Galadriel gently clearing her throat that had them all stopping in their tracks and looking at her like a bunch of sheepish children without her even needing to say a word.

Needless to say they ended up starting the actual baking rather later than originally planned. For one they all had to get cleaned up, and for another they then had to go out and rebuy a load of the ingredients because they were kind of strewn around the room and just generally covered in them.

Except for Sauron who had somehow managed to stay eerily clean of all flying foods despite just sitting at his station and not bothering to get out of the way. He seriously gave Bard the creeps, maybe he would utterly tank his pastries and they would be rid of him; however unlikely Sauron tanking anything seemed. Honestly short of him being caught cheating and sabotaging other people’s bakes Bard was finding it hard to see a final without Sauron in it, but still, he could live in hope at least.

But thanks to the speeding power of the filming crew they were all ready to go again just an hour and a half behind schedule.

“Now that we all seem a little more composed.” Galadriel started and they all resumed their sheepish expressions, but Bard was pretty sure she sounded amused if anything. “It is time for the signature bake.”

“We would like to see from you all a short crust frangipane tart.” Sam announced, more for the viewers than the bakers, but still, it was nice to be reassured that you’d been practicing the right thing all this time.

“You have two hours.” Galadriel smiled.

“On your marks.” Started Merry, still a little four covered from the food fight, not bothering to get cleaned up quite as well as the bakers.

“Get set.” Pippin joined as he always did, still having what looked like a dusting of sugar in his curly hair.

“Bake!” They chorused and the bakers set off as they always did.

Bard knew that the biggest thing to avoid here was going to be getting a soggy bottom, not only had it become something of a running joke about the competition, but it was alo most certainly one of both of the judges’ pet peeves about pastry baking in general.

So Bard had come to the conclusion that what he needed to do was blind bake the short crust pastry to avoid that because to be honest he’d rather it was too hard than to get the dreaded ‘soggy bottom’ comment. He was going for a plums, poached pears and mixed spices frangipane and both Thranduil and the collective children had given it the thumbs up a couple of days ago.

He knew Thranduil was making a berry tart that the children had also given the green light, filled with a complimenting mixture of fruits and in some kind of swirling and symmetrical pattern that Bard still wasn’t sure how he achieved, even after watching him do it.

The thing Bard usually did wrong was overworking his the butter and flour, but he was fairly confident he had judged it right this time before putting it in to chill for a little while. In general the bake went pretty smoothly, he didn’t have any particular hiccups and managed to just bake it the same way he had been practicing at home, but looking around everyone else looked just as composed as he felt so it looked as if it was going to come down to who had the best flavours going on this time.

Unless anyone had sinned and produced a soggy bottom of course.

He, Thranduil and Bilbo chatted idly as their tarts baked, all of them occasionally breaking off to go back and check on their ovens, to make sure some asshole hadn’t turned up the temperature just as much as anything else, and when a formidable and seething looking Arwen came over to them they knew he must have done something.

“What did he do?” Bilbo asked, looking like he was ready to get angry on her behalf.

“ _Someone_ – of course I cannot prove who – appears to have ‘accidentally’ pulled the plug out of my refrigerator.” Arwen told them through gritted teeth, and she was the only one using that particular fridge as everyone else who had been using it had already been eliminated.

“I swear I’m gunna kill him.” Bilbo growled, looking like he was actually considering having words, loud and angry words, with the asshole red head openly smirking at them.

“I just put my pastry in your freezer to chill it faster.” Arwen told Bard and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

“That’s fine, I’m sure that’ll work as well just don’t leave it in there for too long.” Bard warned even though she obviously knew that, but she just nodded gratefully and glared daggers at Sauron – which was actually pretty frightening – before going back to check on her rapidly chilling pastry.

“I’ll slip one of the camera men a little incentive to keep a camera trained on Sauron at all times.” Thranduil said as she walked away, and Bard and Bilbo both nodded in their assent, although Bard was pretty sure Thranduil wouldn’t even have to pay them, everyone here wanted to see that douche-canoe gone.

They all returned to their bakes and started drawing them out the oven, Bard piping some whipped cream lines in a zig-zag along the top which actually made the finish look pretty good just before Merry and Pippin called time on the baking, forcing them all to step away from their counters.

Bard and Thranduil both got judged first, the two of them getting high praise from the judges for their various fruity concoctions as well as having baked the short crust pastry well and having good aesthetic value to their bakes on top of that. Bilbo had gone for far subtler flavouring in his using bay leaves, toasted almonds and rong tea in his bake, which was generally well received but needed to pack a bit more of a flavour punch. 

Faramir and Éowyn had also done well with their tarts, Faramir using fresh apricots which went down a treat and Éowyn’s fruit and nut concoction managing to impress as well, despite only narrowly avoiding having a soggy bottom, ‘a slightly damp bottom’ was the astute comment made by Pippin.  

Arwen’s pastry had ended up cracking and everyone saw the smug look on Sauron’s face but unfortunately did not help them prove anything at all, and just to top it off Sauron’s own pineapple and coconut frangipane was of course absolutely perfect. Of course. Where was Karma when you needed it?

“As we were a little delayed in starting today.” Sam began, giving them all a very disapproving but begrudgingly fond look. “We need to plough straight on with the technical bake.”

“Come on you lot, not rest of the wicked.” Pippin hurried them dashing around and helping them clear up (if eating as many leftovers as he could stuff in his mouth counted as clearing up that was).

“Or not rest of the food fighters, which seems more accurate.” Merry happily joined in (and joined in the leftover stuffing as well, the two of them were like bottomless pits when it came to how much food they could pack away).

The judges were shooed away as they finished their rushed tidying up and Merry and Pippin announced the dreaded technical bake.

“The technical bake Sam is challenging you with this week with a Cypriot flaouna.” Pippin announced and what the ever-loving hell, was a bloody flaouna.

At least looking around Bard wasn’t the only one completely unaware about what it was, because their were rather identical expressions coming from them all. 

“No, we have no idea what that is either. But we wish you good luck that you have many delicious offcuts.” Merry grinned, they went on to tell them the judges were after twelve identical (because when were they allowed to be anything other than identical) flaouna’s.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Instead of leaping off into action as they all tended to do with the signature and showstoppers, they all started pouring over the infuriatingly unhelpful method before beginning an attempt at baking, without any idea what the final product was supposed to either look or taste like.

Bard threw Thranduil a confused look when he turned around briefly, only to get an equally lost look back. In fact the only one who looked like they had any idea what they were doing was Sauron. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Bard extrapolated form the sparse instructions as best he could and everyone in the tent started grimacing as one of their special ingredients started creating a rather pungent pine-smell that quickly filled up the whole tent and wasn’t exactly pleasant. But they all soldiered on, throwing around puzzled looked mainly to make sure they were all just as lost as each other as they battled through this ridiculous bake.

They had to coat one side of the pastry with sesame seeds, but the instructions did not specify whether it was the outside of inside that needed coating, Bard opted for the outside and hoped for the best. There was yeast in it but it was pastry not bread so Bard had no clue if he was supposed to knead it or not, eventually deciding on kneading it just a little. Then the pastry had to be folded but because he had no idea how the final product was supposed to look he had no idea how it was supposed to be folded and just took a wild guess like everyone else in the room seemed to be doing. 

The final nail in all their coffins was that they hadn’t been told how long to bake for either, but going on how much time they had left – and the fact they were never generous with the time they gave them – Bard concluded that about half an hour might be about right and threw them in the oven, remembering to reduce the temperature during the bake to get the golden brown look – not that the instructions told them when they would need to turn it down.  

Needless to say he was a little frazzled by the time they called time on the bake, and even if Thranduil’s hair was still completely perfect, he could see the concerned flicker in his eyes.

They all carried their bakes up to the front and prepared to be judged, Thranduil finding his hand and linking their fingers together which seemed to help them both.

Arwen hadn’t folded hers right, the pastry not covering the top of the flaouna (not that it had been at all clear that it should cover it) and it ended up looking more like a little mini pizza than a flaouna (but what did a flaouna _even_ look like?! – well, not that apparently anyway). Bilbo by a complete self-proclaimed fluke had managed to fold his correctly as well as getting the taste fairly on point, but the tops were a little better done than just ‘golden brown’. Sauron apparently had known what a flaouna was which was just absolutely unfair and he had produced twelve identical and disgustingly perfect bakes for the judges – at least Sam and Galadriel didn’t exactly look happy about his success.

Éowyn had undercooked hers a little and had incorrectly guessed that the sesame seeds should go on the inside rather than the outside and Faramir had actually got everything pretty much correct, apart from the fact that in his panic he had ended up trying out a different folding style on each one so they were completely mismatched rather than identical.

Thranduil’s were deemed ‘acceptable’ but had been folded into the wrong shape, but the taste was good and they were identical so there was that. Bard’s did not go down well. The worst part was that Bard’s weren’t even identical, the folding had become a bit random and some of them had risen lopsided and god it was just terrible, but at least they apparently tasted like flaouna’s, even if Bard wasn’t even sure what that was supposed to be.

He felt a little better about it when Thranduil gave him a kiss as they wandered back to their station, at least if he left he wasn’t exactly leaving empty handed (there was someone else’s hand in his own now after all).

It didn’t really occur to him that this was all being filmed, Sigrid would inform them of their ‘blowing up Twitter’ later, which honestly felt like a little bit of an exaggeration, even if Bard wasn’t sure what Twitter was.

But anyway, ploughing on as they were still behind schedule they had to dive straight into the showstopper round.

They had three and three quarter hours to produce twenty-four vol-au-vents in two different flavours – meaning they were expected to bake forty-eight in total. Bard felt alright about this one, even if the timing was pretty tight considering the quantity they wanted from them. But frankly with a good luck kiss from Thranduil he felt like he could probably climb Mount Everest so forty-eight vol-au-vent seemed rather doable.

Merry and Pippin teased him about his dopey little smile courtesy of Thranduil but Bard grinned at them and refused to be embarrassed. He was going for full English breakfast vol-au-vents in one batch and smoked trout with horseradish in the other, he was feeling pretty good about them really.

In a rare lull in the baking Faramir wandered over to Bard looking like he was on the brink of having some kind of anxiety attack.

“You alright Faramir?” Bard asked a little concerned, he really didn’t need to worry about going home this week as far as Bard could see, but Faramir didn’t exactly have the best self-confidence, although this competition had been making him believe in himself a little more each week. 

“So, um, if – hypothetically – I was to maybe ask eowyn out do you think she would say yes or am I going to make a fool of myself on national tv?” Faramir babbled out rather quickly, it took Bard a moment to realised what he had said.

“I’m fairly certain there is a zero chance of Éowyn rejecting you.” Bard laughed gently.

“Agreed.” Thranduil threw over his shoulder, apparently having been eavesdropping with his freaky hearing.

“But you can do it when the camera’s stop rolling?” Bard pointed out, but Faramir had this determined set in his eyes and had gone back to his bake.

Bard grinned to himself, looked like Thranduil, Arwen and Bilbo were going to owe him a few quid if Faramir actually did it today.

The stress levels in the tent were palpable as the last ten minutes of baking where called, everyone rushing to get their fillings into their little puff pastry cylinders, Bard managing it with about half a second to spare and Thranduil looking like he managed it just as close to the wire.

The judges called time and were heading over to start the judging with Bilbo this time when there was a happy laugh from over at Faramir’s bench and Éowyn was diving in to hug Faramir and grinning out at the rest of them.

“Okay, maybe we’ll start the judging over here.” Sam smiled, curious about what was going on.

In their nosiness they came over Faramir’s bench and found forty eight vol-au-vents arranged to spell out: _Dinner_? But what the clincher was, was the flavours.

“Um, half of them are chocolate with gnash and hazelnuts, and the others are Parma ham and asparagus. They’re Éowyn’s favourites.” Faramir explained looking a little embarrassed by his own thoughtfulness, but that expression melted right off when Éowyn kissed him on the cheek, if life were a cartoon there was definitely be ridiculous hearts in Faramir’s eyes.

The cherry on top was the judges’ reactions.

“Chocolate puff pastry, that was ambitious and you have really pulled it off.” Sam smiled taking another bit of the one he had taken.

“The pastry has risen well, and the ham and asparagus is also excellent.” Galadriel told him. “Congratulations.” She added, smiling and eyes twinkling and probably not talking about the baking.

Éowyn had also managed a good set of vol-au-vents with one set of korma and the other of cod clementine, which were unexpected hit flavours with the judges, and they did always like to be surprised. Arwen had dipped a little, her mushroom, chestnut and truffle oil ones being received well, but the scallop and squid ink ones not so much.  Sauron’s were bloody perfect with their chili powder and chocolate complimentary contrast from one batch to the other.

Bard’s went down an absolute treat, Sam eating about five of the full English ones himself and Galadriel beaming at him as she tasted the smoked trout and horseradish, which Thranduil was particularly fond of as well. Thranduil’s own bake went well, the sheer uniformity of the look of each set of twenty-four a big mark in his favour, the coriander and carrot flavours being enjoyed by the judges. And Bilbo also managed to pull off a good bake, even if the last few fillings had been a little rushed into their pastries, apparently the spicy chicken and smoked salmon flavours made up for it.

The judges went off to make their decisions and Bard had absolutely no idea who would be going, honestly it felt like it could be anyone this week, and if the way Thranduil was squeezing his hand a little tighter than usual was any indication, he felt the same.

They all chatted amongst themselves, occasionally shooting glares at Sauron perched over on his countertop even though he clearly could not care less what they thought, until after a little while the judges returned.

“I have the usually pretty nice job of announcing star baker this week, so well done Sauron.” Pippin grumbled out as if he was reading a particularly annoying shopping list and Bard almost let out a laugh at the bitter taste announcing that clearly left in Pippin’s mouth. 

Sauron looked smug, but then he usually looked smug.

“And I have the horrible task of letting you know who we are saying goodbye to. And seriously, we are going to miss you so much and deserved to stay. But with regret, we are saying goodbye to Arwen.” Merry said sadly, shooting absolute daggers at Sauron the whole time.

Everyone looked glum and gathered her up in big group hug, Sauron already flipping his hair and sauntering off to where his dodgy boyfriend was honking his horn waiting for him, the pair of them putting on a pretty lewd display of making out in the front of the tall, dark and criminal looking boyfriend’s car.

“We’re going to miss you.” Bilbo told her sincerely and everyone nodded their heads in agreement, adding their own condolences to the pile.

“Just do me a favour and do not let that cheating, sabotaging, _asshole_ win.” Arwen said, laughing but clearly more than a little bit pissed off, even if she was trying her best to hold it in.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take him down.” Bard promised, even if he wasn’t entirely sure how they were going to manage it without sinking to Sauron’s levels.

They finished saying their goodbyes and this week Bard and Thranduil weren’t the only ones leaving the tent hand in hand, Bard warned Faramir to remember to kiss her goodnight or feel the wrath later on.

Thranduil swatted him indignantly and Bard just kissed him on the way to the car. After all, his apron did say to kiss the cook.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed round six of bake off!
> 
> You can vote for TWO bakers that you want to see stay in the competition, but there is no need to vote for Bard and Thrandy until the semi’s because I need them for plot and trash reasons, so use your votes on the others for now!
> 
> Also, bear in mind that the vote is very, very, very close atm, so do not assume anyone other than bard and thrandy are safe!!
> 
> Please please please vote ^^ and thank you for reading!


	8. Round Seven

 

Thranduil had picked him up again this week, Bard leaning over the gear leaver to kiss him good morning as he had climbed in and they drove over to the infamous bake off tent. The whole way Bard had been reminding Thranduil about the tips and techniques he taught him for the game pie they would be making this week, Thranduil feeling uncharacteristically nervous for the first time.

There were only six of them left, half the tent was empty which was slightly terrifying and the competition was seriously fierce. Bilbo barely ever slipped up at all, Faramir had shot through the pack going from the bottom of the pile to the one to watch, Sauron was an asshole who was unfortunately fairly flawless at baking, and Éowyn had been making fewer mistakes until now she rarely made any at all.

Bard was trying to reconcile himself with the fact that even if he did go out now, he would still have Thranduil, nothing was going to change for them if he went out. But the problem was, Bard wanted to _win_. He really did. He’d been rather laid back about it, but as he got further and further through the competition he couldn’t deny anymore just how much he wanted to win.

But to be honest so long as Sauron didn’t win he would be okay.

He really hated that cheating douchebag.

What was truly annoying was that he didn’t even need to cheat to stay in, he was good enough to get through without sabotaging other people, which meant that he was literally only doing it because he was a dick.

At least everyone was on alert and watching their backs now.

The five of them were sitting around Bilbo’s work station waiting for the judges to appear, Sauron off sitting elsewhere.

“This week has such a strange theme.” Éowyn said, her and Faramir perched side by side on the countertop.

“Yeah.” Bard agreed nodding his head, ‘Victorian week’ was the theme for this round rather than a specific kind of baking, which made his worry for the technical challenge because there was a definite possibility that he would never have even heard of what they wanted him to do.

But he supposed it could be worse, none of them had been alive in Victorian times after all, they were all in the same boat.

“I am not feeling good about it.” Faramir laughed self depreciatingly and Bard saw Éowyn giving his hand a squeeze even as everyone nodded in agreement.

Bilbo looked like he was about to ask something, but then their judges and lively presenters arrived and their time was cut short, everyone dispersing back to their own benches, Bard catching Thranduil’s wrist before he went to his own.

“Good luck.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s soft pink lips and getting a smile and a returning kiss from him.

“You too.” Thranduil smiled back, before walking around to his own work bench in front of Bards.

“Good morning bakers and welcome to Victorian Week.” Pippin grinned at them.

“We need to get stuck straight in today so we can get it all done, so I hope you’re all mentally and bakingly prepared for your first challenge.” Merry chimed in before turning to the judges to let them announce their challenge.

“You are going to be making a raised game pie for us today.” Sam sounded excited, probably keen on pie and hoping he was going to get served up some good ones here today.

“Good luck.” Galadriel smiled in a way that was somehow comforting even under these increasingly stressful situations.

“Alright then bakers! On your marks.”

“Get set!”

“Bake!”

Merry and Pippin set them off in their customary manner and Bard immediately got to work cutting his meat.

He was using venison, pigeon and pork belly with mixed herbs inside his game pie and was hoping that it was going to go as well as it had been going at home (and in Thranduil’s significantly larger kitchen as well).

The pastry was the most important thing, not having a soggy bottom always had to be a priority, and the hot water crust pastry needed to be thin and crisp, but still structurally sound when there was a lot of heavy filling inside. They had to make the pastry from scratch, but Bard had made quite a lot of game pies because his kids loved them and he loved making them, there was just something so satisfying about pie.

He boiled the water with the fat and added the flower when it was ready to make the pastry, blissfully used to making pastry of all kinds, especially those used for pie. He’d given Thranduil a rather hands on lesson in making hot water pastry last week, wrapping his arms around Thranduil and guiding his hands in a way that was most definitely not necessary but appreciated by them both nonetheless.

Bard filled the pie with his filling, laid the pastry over the top to make it a pie instead of a basket and slid it into the oven to bake on a high temperature for a half hour before he was planning on turning it down a little for the second half of the baking, that way it should be cooked through and the pastry nice and crispy.

“Bard, am I doing this right?” Thranduil asked, turning around from his pie to Bard with a worried expression.

Bard left his pie baking and went around to join Thranduil, checking over how he was moving the lid on top.

“Perfect.” Bard smiled, and he was pretty sure Thranduil knew it was perfect and he just wasn’t used to being at all nervous over a bake.

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Thranduil answered, moving it into the oven, his lattice work over the top carefully engraved with swirling designs.

“And now we wait.” Bard smiled and Thranduil nodded his head, still looking a little nervous so Bard found his hand and held it in his own, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and making Thranduil blush ever so slightly.

“I see some baker fraternisation going on over here.” Merry’s gleeful voice pulled them out of their little private moment – well, private despite the fact it had probably been caught on the camera that was perpetually pointed at them.

Thranduil rolled his eyes at the two presenters grinning at them.

“So what’re you two going to do if you both get into the final?” Pippin asked, cheekiness in his voice. “A bit of a conflict of interests isn’t it.”

“I intend to wipe the floor with him, and I have no doubt he plans to do the same.” Bard grinned at the pair of them, getting a rich laugh from Thranduil.

“Bring it on Bowman.” Thranduil challenged, his eyes twinkling with that mischief Bard loved to see and the pair of them managing to forget out the snickering presenters.

“You’ll see.” Bard winked. “I need to check on my pie and get on with my decorations.” He added a little apologetically, leaning up to peck Thranduil’s cheek and return to his baking, only for Thranduil to turn his head and catch his lips in a proper kiss instead. “Stop trying to distract me.” Bard grinned as he pulled away after a few moments.

“I would never.” Thranduil said innocently and Bard couldn’t help his laugh, actually managing to land a kiss to Thranduil’s cheek this time before returning to his own baking station.  

Bard was decorating the top of his pie with leaves and wildflowers made from the pastry and affixed to the top, apart from the more impressive and intricate design on the top, it was a pie he had made quite a lot at home before. It was the other challenges for the round, the showstopper and the ever terrifying unknown technical challenge that was worrying Bard.

Bard got his pie decorated and laid a couple of sprigs on thyme on the top, more for decoration than part of the pie, and shortly after Merry and Pippin were calling time just as Thranduil came to a finish as well, his pie looking beautiful just like it had at home when he had finally mastered it.

They moved their pies to the end of the bench and waited to be judged as they always did with the signature bake. Sauron went first, his aromatic pheasant and venison pie with shallots and apple chutney reportedly just as delicious as it was beautiful (if a little intimidating) with shards of pasty seeming to shoot out the top of the pie, giving it a very rocky effect. Bilbo’s was earthy and rich with rabbit, pigeon, venison and minced lamb ran through with some herbs grown in his very own garden, his pastry a little thick in places but otherwise perfect.

Thranduil’s went down a treat with his wine infused game wrapped in well rolled and thinned out crunchy pastry, the top looking simple until you took a closer look and saw the impossibly beautiful designs he had carved into the pastry. Bard’s was given great reviews by the judges (and Merry and Pippin who stole some too) his mix of game meats and pork belly and various herbs being having the judges smiling with delight, as did the little pastry flowers and leaves that had thankfully also come out just the way Bard had hoped.

Faramir had gone for venison and partridge and while his pastry was slightly underdone in places, it was still regarded as pretty delicious by the judges, and Sam seemed to be having the time of his life being served up all these mouth-watering pies, apparently they were all rather good at pie. Éowyn had faltered a little in her decoration, but not enough for it to really matter, especially as the pie itself apparently tasted so good, her mix of pheasant, pigeon and rabbit with shallots and herbs smelling pretty damn good as well.

“Right bakers, we’re wasting no time today, getting you all started on the next challenge.” Pippin announced as they were clearing away their mess from the pie baking.

“My only advice to you is that you are careful with your timing, you want to get started quickly, but do not rush.” Galadriel informed them, it always lead to a panic when they had to get straight into the technical when most of them were flying a bit blind as well.

“Good advice. So if your judges would kindly get gone to the other tent, we will announce to you your technical challenge for Victorian week.” Merry told them, comically shooing Galadriel and Sam out of the tent.

“Today you are going to be making, a tennis cake.” Pippin informed them, with a grin and absolutely no elaboration on what he had just said, Bard wasn’t even sure what a tennis cake was, at least the recipe should vaguely guide him in the right direction, he just needed to be able to extrapolate from it and fill in the blanks as best he could.

“On your marks!”

“Get set!”

“Bake!”

They were set off again and bard grabbed for his recipe and took in all of the ingredients, it became pretty clear pretty quickly that the cake was essentially a fruit cake, which meant it was going to take a long time to bake not to mention the fact that they then needed sufficient time to cool afterwards so they didn’t cave in.

At least that explained Galadriel’s comment.

Bard quickly set to work prepping his fruit and doing the cake element, he’d worry about the horribly picky sounding decoration when the fruit cake was safely away in the oven, he’d still have about two hours to go while it was baking, then he’d need time for it to cool properly, so really the cake needed to be in the oven within the first half hour of their time. Bard started chopping the fruit a little more frantically when he realised that.

He got it in the oven fast enough that he was fairly sure he wasn’t going to have a problem with it baking and cooling and set about the far harder task of the icing decoration. He had to make marzipan to start with, or ‘almond paste’ as the Victorians had called it, he also had to make sugar past which needed to be coloured and iced to look like a tennis court.

The sugar paste was complete guesswork with how much gelatine he was supposed to put in, then melting it over a gentle heat or it didn’t cease before adding the icing sugar gradually until the paste was going to be able to be rolled out.

He coloured it so it was green like a tennis court should be, rolled the marzipan and sugar past out to matching rectangles to fit on top of the cake and set about piping icing to make the tennis court onto the green icing, luckily he had played enough tennis in his life that he knew what the lines were supposed to look like. After making the lines with an even 5 centimetre gap form the outside of the green icing Bard piped down some little swirls around the outside.

Onto a piece of baking paper he piped out the net and racquets and quickly put them in the freezer to set. By which time his cake was about ready to come out of the oven to be set on the side to cool, his was out first but it wasn’t long before all the contestants were using trays to fan cold air at their cakes in an attempt to get them to cool faster. But patience was the key here and eventually the cake was cool enough for the marzipan and sugar paste tennis court to be carefully transferred on top, Bard breathing a sigh of relief when the court was the right size for the cake.

He took his net and racquets out of the freezer, carefully taking them of the baking paper and setting them up on the court, hardly believing his luck when the net actually stood up and didn’t break. A glance about the room told him that not everyone had been so lucky, many nets having broken or collapsed – and Éowyn looked like she may have put her decorative net and racquets in the oven instead of the fridge or freezer from the yellow brown tint they were carrying and their more brittle look.

Bard grimaced as literally as time was called on them Faramir broke his net, a resigned look going over his face as he stepped back.

They put their tennis cakes behind the photo of themselves and sat in their little row of stools to be judged, Bard and Thranduil not being the only ones linking hand’s this time, Bilbo muttering good naturedly about being the fifth wheel.   

Bard’s cake was apparently pretty damn good, the only slight criticism being that the fruit could have been distributed more evenly, but at that comment Galadriel had given Sam a withering look, apparently she thought it was fine. Thranduil’s tennis court was flawless, the piping immaculate but the cake itself was very very slightly underdone and had caused a tiny dip in the court.

Faramir’s net had collapsed and broken but his cake was good, Éowyn’s brownish decorations were a bit of a train wreck especially as her cake was also underdone causing a big dip in the middle of the court. Sauron’s was bloody perfect as usual, how he had gotten his piping and decoration quite so perfect was a little creepy in fact. And Bilbo’s was a wonderful cake but the icing had gone a little iffy as he hadn’t exactly been sure what the lines on a tennis court looked like.

At the end of it Éowyn came last, then Faramir, Bilbo, Thranduil, Bard and in first place Sauron. The bastard.

They moved swiftly on to the showstopper round, which was a Charlotte Russe which was going to involve making their own lady fingers and jelly. Bard had practiced it a few times and was still a bit unsure about it, but there was nothing he could do now except plough on so that was what he did.

He made his lady fingers and piped them out, sliding them into the oven and turning to the task of the jelly. He was going for a strawberry Charlotte Russe and trying to keep it relatively simple for himself in the hope that it wouldn’t go disastrously wrong, and jelly held together with light ladyfingers had plenty of ways to go wrong.  

Bard kind of went through the motions with this one, not letting himself get distracted and just getting on with the bake, watching his jelly carefully to achieve the perfect wobble, making sure it was almost mousse-like in its consistency, getting the strawberry flavour to run through it nicely.  

The bake felt like it went quickly, probably because he was always busy. He had a minor disaster with his ladyfingers trying to split as he moved the cake, but Thranduil’s slender, elegant hands were about his bake bracing it for the move without him having to say a word and it was mostly saved.

When it came down to the judging Bard’s was definitely at the bottom end of the scale with his minor mishap and the simple flavour, along with Éowyn who had put pomegranate in her’s which had left a gritty texture which Sam had not liked at all. Thranduil and Sauron had both been flawless, Thranduil creating an elaborate and beautiful crown over the top of his to commemorate Queen Victoria, and Sauron had done one of his usual impossible designs on his own, as well as them both having beautiful flavour combinations presented in perfect layers.

Bilbo and Faramir were in the middle of the pack with no disasters and two pretty good Charlotte Russe’s, but without the ‘showstopping’ quality that Thranduil and Sauron had. Bard had a horrible feeling they were going to be saying goodbye to Éowyn today, something he did not want to happen, but unfortunately Sauron had been on top form, and it was pretty difficult to compete with him when he was, even if he deserved to be kicked out for being a cheating douchenozzle anyway.

Bard, Thranduil and Bilbo were all grimacing as the judges emerged to give them their decision, Faramir looked panicked and Éowyn looked like she had fully accepted what was about to happen. Sauron just looked smug.

That was, until there was the screeching of a car being thrown to a stop in the car park and the man Bard recognised as Sauron’s rather unnerving boyfriend racing towards the tent.

“Sau we’ve got to go, get in the car.” He announced, seething with intensity and Sauron pouted at him, all the other people in the tent backing away from the tall dark haired pale man that just oozed something dangerous.

“But Mel I’m just about to beat these idiots for star baker again.” Sauron complained and Bard would be angry if he was at all surprised by his words.

“No, Sau, we’ve got to go.” His boyfriend pushed, grabbing him by the arm and successfully communicating something silently.

“Oh, _oh shit_.” Sauron replied, ferocity in his voice as he ditched his apron and started hastily exiting the tent. “Just remember, I would have won!” He threw over his shoulder as they pair made it hand in hand running for their car, the rest of the inhabitants of the tent watching in a bit of a daze.

“What on earth just happened?” Bilbo asked, utterly bufuddled just like the rest of them.

“I’m not entirely sure. But what I do know.” Pippin started with a grin. “Is that Sauron is gone which means someone else gets to be star baker and none of the rest of you have to go home!”

They all erupted into cheers at that, Faramir sweeping Éowyn into a relieved kiss that he blushed about afterwards as the judges quickly conferred about their star baker.

“I think I’ll have the pleasure of announcing star baker today.” Galadriel smiled. “And we have decided to award it to you Thranduil.” She smiled and Thranduil allowed his face to break into an open smile at the award.

Thranduil turned and kissed Bard soundly just moments after.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He smiled, and Bard smiled right back.

It was at that moment that they heard sirens racing into the car park and a serious looking group police officers striding down into the tent.

“We’re looking for a man named Mairon – although he had been using the alias Sauron, and his boyfriend Melkor. We have reason to believe he was here.” The officer, his badge said ‘Manwe’ told them, even though they all knew that obviously he had been on bake off all this time.

“Um, yeah he just ran off with his boyfriend. They left in a bit of a hurry.” Bilbo told them, all of the bakers and people involved in bake of looking rather startled.

“That is unsurprising, they are wanted on a laundry list of crimes. Attempted murder, arson, illict arms dealing, burglary, fraud, extortion, black mail.” Officer Manwe reeled off, not sounding like that was the whole list either.  

“Cheating in bake off.” Eowyn chimed in, making them all chuckle a little nervously and getting a slightly stern look from the group of officers.

“I doubt he will show his face again now. But if he does, either of them, I expect you to inform us immediately.” The officer instructed them, before they all started making haste back to their vehicles and heading out on the chase again.

They all just stood there for a moment in utter confusion.

“Well.” Bilbo finally said. “Looks like ‘asshole’ has been a bit of an understatement.”

They all laughed, glad to finally be rid of Sauron and rooting for the police to catch him as soon as possible, if only for justice for Arwen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed round seven of bake off!
> 
> You can vote for TWO bakers that you want to see stay in the competition, but there is no need to vote for Bard and Thrandy until the semi’s because I need them for plot and trash reasons, so use your votes on the others for now!
> 
> Also, bear in mind that the vote is very, very, very close atm, so do not assume anyone other than bard and thrandy are safe!!
> 
> Please please please vote ^^ and thank you for reading!


	9. Round Eight

 

Bard couldn’t help the smile on his face as he drove his busted up old jeep to the Bake Off tent, Thranduil lounging back in the passenger seat next to him. He was in the final five, the quarter finals, which was pretty unbelievable, Sauron was gone which meant no matter what happened he wasn’t going to win which felt like a victory in itself, and the best thing, was that there was this gorgeous blonde sitting in the seat next to him.

Life seemed pretty good from where he was sitting.

Thranduil and Legolas had come over the night before for some baking practice and had ended up staying the night, which Thranduil had definitely been planning because he had a bag packed and ready in his car and it was definitely not ‘just in case we broke down Bard.’

(Bard didn’t mind)

When they plled up everyone seemed in better spirits than usual, which was no doubt because of the gaping abscense of one salty redhead – criminal redhead in fact – he and Thranduil had been following the story on the news, and they had all undergone a bit of questioning from the police.

Thranduil had been the one to ask the awkward question of why the hell they hadn’t managed to catch Sauron or Annatar or Mairon or whatever the hell his name was when he had been on one of the country’s most popular shows for the past seven weeks. The police had mumbled about a lot of things and looked embarrassed before moving along to question someone else.

The police still had not found Sauron and Melkor, instead they had received a video the pair had posted on YouTube of them sunning themselves on some beach somewhere, Sauron not being able to help himself from declaring ‘you all know I would have won’ on the end of the video. The producers of Bake Off were elated, their rating had absolutely skyrocketed.  

“Do you want to go on holiday after the competition is finished?” Thranduil asked, turing his head to Bard.

“You sure it isn’t a bit early?” Bard answered carefully, he didn’t want them to be accused of rushing things, even if it didn’t scare him in the slightest.

“Not out the country, I have a house down near the coast, I thought the kids would enjoy it.” Thranduil mused and Bard almost pulled over to kiss him, but they were almost there so he resisted.

“That would be wonderful.” Bard smiled, finding Thranduil’s hand and tangling their fingers together, cursing all manual cars when he had to change gear not two minutes later.

They spent the rest of the drive in a comfortable silence, Bard would bet they were both going over their bakes in their head.

Patisserie week, quarter finals, this was not going to be easy.  

They were the last contestants to turn up, Éowyn, Faramir and Bilbo already gathered in the startlingly empty tent chatting away with nervousness shining through, oh well, at least Bard wasn’t the only one.

There was someone else in the tent this morning, a bearded man with scruffy long dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail was standing with Bilbo, a squirming curly haired child on his hip, Bard guessed it was Thorin from how close he was stood to Bilbo and the annoyed noise from Thranduil just confirmed it.

“Mornin’ all.” Bard greeted, he and Thran wandering into the tent hand in hand, they felt like a little family really, the ones that were left.  They got greeted in return and bard decided to be polite despite Thranduil and go and say hello to the new person in the tent. “You must be Thorin, I’m Bard.” Bard smiled, offering the hand that wasn’t holding onto Thranduil, who currently looked like he was a sulking child at being made to socialise with Thorin.

“Yes.” Thorin answered, voice gruff and glaring at Thranduil the whole time he was supposed to be addressing Bard, Thranduil glared back and Bilbo and Thorin shared an eye roll.

“And then this must be Frodo.” Bard grinned, Frodo looking at him with huge blue eyes and a face full of curiosity as Thorin set him down.

Bard spent the next ten minutes entertaining Frodo and answering his never ending stream of questions and listening to all the stories about what adventures he was going to go on, all the while Thorin and Thranduil just glared at each other.

“He and Tilda would get along frighteningly well I fear.” Bard laughed as Frodo bounced off to begin his interrogation of Faramir and Éowyn instead. 

“We’ll have to find out. You’re a good friend, I have no intention of loosing contact.” Bilbo told him and Bard smiled and nodded in agreement.

“Although I fear these two will try and sabotage us the entire way.” Bard pointed out, tipping his head towards their now bickering counterparts.

“We could suggest double dates, really wind them up.” Bilbo suggested with a laugh and bard was unsure if that would be more unpleasant for Thorin and Thranduil or themselves trying to deal with them.

“How come Thorin is here today?” Bard asked, he wasn’t allowed to be here once the filming started after all.

“Stupid car wouldn’t start this morning, he’s going to take Frodo to the zoo for the day until it’s time to come collect me again.” Bilbo explained, and that really was a good idea, he wondered if Thranduil would be up for a trip to the zoo at some point, the kids loved it there, he bet Legolas did as well.

“Good solution. Think we should break them up before the camera’s start and judges arrive?” Bard said, even though it was pretty amusing to watch them both try to disintegrate the other with the force of their glares.

“Probably yeah.” Bilbo sighed, grabbing Thorin by the wrist and tugging him away as Bard did the same with Thranduil, neither of them going without a little bit of resistance.

Bilbo kissed Thorin and told him to sod off for the day, the pair of them rounding up Frodo who had decided he wanted nothing more than to scamper away from them both giggling instead.

“Play nice. You’re a grown man for goodness sake.” Bard scolded Thranduil with a look that was at least supposed to be stern, it was clear he had failed when Thranduil just laughed that rich laugh of his and lent in for a kiss instead, which Bard was very ad at saying no to.

Frodo finally ground to a halt so face he fell over a bit when he came face to dress with Galadriel’s long white summer dress, the little boy looking up at her in awe and muttering something about having found an angel, which made Galadriel laugh quietly and help him up from the floor, giving Thorin a chance to scoop him up while Frodo just gawked.

Thorin and Frodo left with a glare to Thranduil and a wave to everyone else, Frodo grinning at them all declaring that he would see them all later.

“Well bakers, welcome to the quarter finals.” Pippin grinned when the cameras started rolling, Thorin and Frodo were gone and everyone had found their way to their benches.

“It’s patisserie week and for the Signature challenge, the judges would like to you to make cream horns.” Merry told them, well, told the audience, the bakers had been informed a while ago.

“We want to see cream horns in two different flavours and for you to bake twelve of each.” Galadriel reminded them. “You can use any kind of pastry you like, rough puff, full puff or flaky.”

“They must look identical. You have two hours.” Sam instructed, leaving Merry and Pippin to set them off in their customary fashion.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Thranduil blew him a kiss as they got started which should have been corny and embarrassing but somehow wasn’t and had Bard blushing anyway as he got started on his cream horns. They had gone alright at home when he had practiced them, but there were just an awful lot of things that had the potential to go wrong with them.

He opted for full puff pastry, praying to the baking gods that it had nice flaky layers when it was done because that had been a bit hit and miss at home (he was hoping for a hit this time). He was going for lime and mascarpone flavouring in one set and malt and honeycomb cream in the other twelve.

They were just so fiddly, Bard supposed all the baking from here on was just going to get more and more fiddly and complicated. Thranduil was so good at the elaborate stuff, he had been trying to teach Bard some of it, and it had probably helped. They did that a lot now, pooling their knowledge and strengths when practicing their signatures and showstoppers at home to help each other learn how to do it all better, the final would certainly be interesting if they were both in it.

Bard knew Thranduil was being clever and making – or at least trying to make it hadn’t been completely smooth sailing at home – both plain and chocolate pastry, and giving the cream filling a distinctly alcoholic flare. Bard was quickly learning that chocolate and wine was a fast way into Thranduil’s heart in the kitchen.

Bard twisted his pastry into the swirling cones, trying to get the right amount of overlap, not too much or they would be dense and not too little or they would fall apart, baking it and the shoving it in the freezer to keep cold so it should be nice and flaky when it was finally done.    

The time ran away as it always seemed too, Bard just finished filling his horns, hoping that the filling had reached the ends and filled the whole horn as time was called on them by Merry and Pippin who had been making a lot of horny jokes that Bard had been trying not to laugh at because he wasn’t eighteen dammit.

They all waited with the usual anticipation as the judges started their rounds to check out and taste everyone’s bakes. It was even more horrible than usual to hear someone get a bad comment now, he really didn’t want any of them to have to leave.

Thranduil’s pastry swirls had fallen apart on a few of his bakes, the chocolate pastry not binding properly with the plain pastry, but they liked the taste so it wasn’t so bad, either way Thranduil did not look happy with himself. Bilbo had done banana custard crunch and coffee and vanilla swirl in the others, and they were exactly bad but Sam was disappointed with the lack of a strong banana flavour.

Farmair had made Lemon and peach in one set and smoked almonds and butterscotch in the other, and unfortunately in his attempt to do something clever with chocolate had ended up with a bit of drippage out the ends, he’d also lost a bit of time on the main bake because he had been making cinnamon sticks to go on them, but at least they did look and taste nice. Éowyn had gone for rose pistachio in one set and mocha hazelnut in the others which the judges hadn’t been sure about but loved on taste, all of them neat and uniform as well.

Bard’s lime and mascarpone and malt and honeycomb cream went down well, although the puff pastry had lost its layers in some places and the filling hadn’t reached the bottom of them all, but all in all he was pretty pleased with his result.

They tidied up their station and waited for the dreaded technical challenge to be announced, wondering what ridiculous thing they would be trying to work out how to bake this week.

“Bard, take a deep breath.” Thranduil smiled, appearing in front of him and giving his hands a squeeze before ducking in and kissing Bard soundly, probably far too soundly considering the cameras, but Bard wasn’t complaining.

“Time for the technical challenge.” Merry grinned at them.

“Which means you two need to get lost.” Pippin said, shooing an amused Galadriel and disapproving looking Sam out the tent.

“This week Galadriel has set you a challenge from her own recipe book and you are going to make her mokatines.” Merry announced and the five of them exchanged similar ‘what the hell are they’ looks.

“Nine identical mokatines in fact. Good luck.”

Bard in fact remembered seeing something called mokatines in one of Galadriel’s cook books and actively hadn’t bothered to read it properly on the basis that it was way too fiddly and they would never have to do that without warning. He should ban his brain from making decisions from here on in.

Before they could catch their breath they seemed to be going again, Merry and Pippin setting them off once more, everyone pouring over the very unhelpfully thinned down recipe.

“Well. I guess we just, kind of…guess.” Faramir shrugged, getting stuck in and spurring them all on into doing the same.

The first step seemed to be to make a Genovese sponge which Bard at least knew how to do, although it was hardly easy. He folded his flour and eggs together being careful not to lose the air or there would be no chance of this sponge rising at all.

Then there seemed to be three different kinds of icing, a coffee buttercream, and mocha fondant and some piping as well. Bard did his best and just got one with it, following the sparse instructions as best he could and ending up with nine square Genovese sponges, cut in half and filled with buttercream, a little pool of mocha fondant on top which was a bit stringy for his liking but seemed okay and not disastrous, and some messy decorative piping because time was not his friend.

They all went and placed their bakes behind their photos and sitting in a row facing them, Thranduil easily sliding into the end stool beside Bard, Bilbo on Bard’s other side and Éowyn and Faramir next to him.

The judging was a little brutal. Bilbo’s Genovese sponge was a little raw on the inside and he had similarly rushed piping to Bard, Bilbo’s buttercream layer was also too thin and the mocha fondant too much like a paste. Bard’s sponge and buttercream were good with good even layers but he was scolded for his sloppy piping and his fondant was indeed too sticky. Thranduil’s were good apart from the fact that his mocha fondant was too runny, everything else about them being praised.

Éowyn’s were genuinely about as close to perfect as they could be without Galadriel baking them herself, they were just so neat and even, Bard wanted to try one. Faramir’s were also pretty good, although the presentation was a little sloppy.

So in the end it wasn’t that much of a surprise that Éowyn took first place, Thranduil second, Faramir third, Bard fourth and Bilbo last. The competition really had toughened up.

Up next was the showstopper, yet another bake that Bard was feeling less than confident about, really it was slightly ridiculous what they were being asked to do.

“The final bake of the quarter finals.” Pippin announced dramatically.

“It’s bake or break time people.” Merry added, both of them trying and failing to look serious.

“For this showstopper, we are asking you to make a Religieuse a’ l’ancienne.” Galadriel told them in a perfect French accent.

Thranduil could do that, pronounce the ridiculous bake in a lovely accent, Bard still wasn’t entirely sure how it was meant to be said, despite hearing it multiple times.

“This will involve three tiers of éclairs, which must have at least two different flavours. It must be free standing, and able to stay standing for a few hours after baking.” Sam explained and that was the part that was going to be really tricky, making it structurally sound enough not to collapse.

“You have four hours to create your religieuse a’ l’ancienne.” Pippin told them, before he and merry set them off.

Bard had decided early on that strong flour was going to be integral to getting it to stand up on it’s own. The disks between the layers needed to be short crust and not too thick to weigh down the whole thing even more but not thin enough to be entirely redundant either.

It was quite literally a balancing act.

But still Bard ploughed on as he always did, trying not to think about the numerous disasters they had had while practicing at home. He was flavouring half the éclairs with mango and passion fruit and the others with a mix raspberry and strawberry, and at least with those flavours it wasn’t hard to get the flavour to come though.

They needed to bake the éclairs quickly to they were sturdy enough when it was time to start building. He used a bowl to try and help him hold things up as he started fixing the éclairs to the first and largest short crust disk, using sugarpaste to stick them down. Thran ended up helping him assemble his so that he could then help assemble Thranduil’s, otherwise they would have fallen over before they were even standing, before leaving them to set and going to help Bilbo who seemed in a bit of a flap and was having a few disasters.

“Need any extra hands?” Bard asked as they found Bilbo, struggling to hold everything up and build at the same time.

“Please.” He added, Bard and Thranduil immediately carefully supporting the éclairs until the ring was complete and could hold itself, _just_. These things really were ridiculous.

Faramir and Éowyn were helping each other and the judges were rolling their eyes and mumbling about needing some kind of limit on how much they could help each other, they were supposed to be in competition not a team. Unfortunately they all got along very well, so team it seemed to be, even if they did all want to win.

They piped on their icing cream in between the éclairs, Bard had made sure to make his thick and stiff so it would actually help it all hold together rather than make it even more slippery.

 Time was call way faster than Bard felt it should have been, and looking around the room the presentation of the lot of them was a little sloppy, it had just been too much to ask in four hours. So it would come down to taste and whoever’s remained standing upright.

“Alright bakers, say bye-bye to your bakes because now we need to see if they will stand up for a couple of hours while you go eat.” Merry told them, shooing them out the room while everyone threw worried glances at their bakes.

Their late tea was subdued, everyone too busy wondering whether or not their bake had collapsed – except Thranduil who had his head in Bard’s lap and was taking a nap, Bard laughing as Éowyn took a picture of them and posted it to twitter. Bard still wasn’t sure exactly what twitter was.

After what felt like days they were finally called back into the tent, which was a bit of a dismal sight, Bilbo’s religieuse a’ l’ancienne had collapsed, the bottom tier buckling, Faramir’s had wilted a little and looked quite sad, but Thranduil, his own and Éowyn’s were still standing tall and proud, Bard pressed a quick kiss to Thranduil’s cheek as a well done.

Thranduil, Éowyn and Bard had managed to pull off a great taste and a sturdy build, Faramir’s hadn’t totally collapsed and his flavours of red cherry and banana were enough to make it not completely abysmal. Galadriel and Sam fixed Bilbo with apologetic looks, because apparently it tasted divine, it had just entirely and completely fallen apart after being left, and these things were meant to stand for hours.

They were all very quiet as the judges disappeared to make their decisions shifting their chairs to sit around one of the counters, picking at Éowyn’s delicious showstopper as they waited, and waited, and waited. Clearly today was going to be a hard one.

But eventually the judges and presenters did reappear, both too soon and way too slow.

“I get the awesome job today of announcing our start baker, and I can say that this person has truly deserved it after eight weeks of clawing up the rankings. So congratulations Éowyn.” Merry grinned, Éowyn high fiving the offered hand as they all joined in with her well deserved moment.

“I have the horrible task of announcing who is leaving us. Needless to say we don’t want to see any of you guys go, and I know you lot feel the same. So it is with great regret that I announce that it is Bilbo who is leaving us today.” Pippin said sadly and Bilbo grimaced, nodding sadly and Faramir and Éowyn tugged him into a bear hug that Bard joined and Thranduil gave Bilbo’s shoulder a squeeze, not comfortable himself with things like group hugs, showing support nonetheless.

They all stuck around to chat with Bilbo until Thorin got back for him, agreeing that they would all have to have their own cook off’s dinner party style, Faramir and Éowyn laughing about how they would love to see Thranduil in a student kitchen, Thranduil grimacing and making them all laugh louder.    

“They didn’t.” Thorin announced is presence with his disbelief, noting the discouraged look on Bilbo’s face.

“I’m afraid so.” Bilbo nodded, scooping up Frodo as he ran over, Thorin coming over and kissing him thoroughly.

“They clearly don’t know what they’re doing. Keeping twinkle toes in and kicking you out.” Thorin grumbled, his insult at Thranduil actually making everyone laugh, even if Thranduil disguised it as a huff, Bard knew better.

“Don’t be bitter. Thranduil baked very well. And I will see you all in the final.” Bilbo grinned, and that was true, all the contestants and contestants’ family’s attended the final, that should be fun.

They said their goodbyes and all wandered off to their various cars, Thranduil lacing their fingers together in much the same way Bard had just seen Éowyn do, the pair of them headed away filled with excitement about the semi-final next week.

“I think I may have to stop helping you, you’re getting far too good.” Thranduil teased, murmuring into Bard’s ear.

“Scared blondie?” Bard grinned, wrapping an arm around Thranduil’s waist and pulling him close.

“Bring it on Bowman.” Thranduil answered, eyes wolfish and Bard kissed him.

He was pretty sure they had both already won anyway.

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BARD AND THRANDY ARE NO LONGER SAFE, IF YOU WISH TO SEE THEM IN THE FINAL YOU NOW NEED TO VOTE FOR THEM!!!! 
> 
> You still have two votes, use them wisely and thank you for reading!! <3


	10. Semi-Final

 

It had only really hit Bard while they were in the kitchen practicing their signature bake that he was _in the semi-final_.

That was certainly not something he had been anticipating, but now that he was in it, he started to get the dangerous notion that maybe, just _maybe_ , he might be in with a shot of actually winning. Then he took a look at how talented everyone else was and thought better of it, the semi was a perfectly respectable place to go out.

Thranduil scolded him for thinking that.

And now here they were again, stood in a very very empty tent, the four of them huddled nervously around Faramir’s baking station, Thranduil wasn’t particularly nervous. Bastard.

“Chocolate is such a pain.” Éowyn said nervously, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her foot restlessly.

“Yeah, you can’t even see when it’s done.” Faramir agreed and they were right, it was always dark so you couldn’t really tell when it was cooked.

“Well, at least if you do burn it you can’t tell by looking at it.” Bard grimaced, it was an extremely small silver lining.

“Indeed. Only when they go to taste it.” Thranduil pointed out and Bard slapped him on the arm, he knew that it didn’t need to be pointed out.

“Just because you’re good at chocolate.” He griped back, making Thranduil smirk and the other two wince.

Thranduil was very good at chocolate thought, probably because other than his son, it and wine were his only weaknesses in the world, put them together and he became putty in your hands as Bard discovered on the romantic picnic under the stars he treated Thranduil to the other night. A picnic involving only chocolate a wine.

So unsurprisingly Thranduil had practiced all sorts of things with chocolate (and wine).

(Not all of them suitable for television).

“All right everyone stop flirting with the enemy.” Merry interrupted, pulling Bard from his chocolate fantasies and the other three from their conversation.

“You are aware this was supposed to be Bake Off not Love Island right?” Pippin cheeked with a little wink and a laugh and no one bothered arguing with him, especially with the way Bard and Thranduil and Éowyn and Faramir were busy holding hands.

“You missed your calling, clearly.” Thranduil offered dry, leaving a kiss on Bard’s lips for emphasis as he went over to his station, the camera definitely caught that.

Far too much of their relationship had been caught by that dastardly camera man. 

“Now that you’re all done canoodling, time for your first bake!” Merry grinned at them as they all took their places.

“This week is chocolate week as you all know.” Galadriel told them, serene and angelic looking as ever.

“And for your signature bake we want you to make us a chocolate tart.” Sam smiled.

And really that sounded deceptively simple until you realised that just one flavour probably wasn’t going to cut it and because it was relatively simple it was going to have to be utterly flawless.

Then again it was the semi-final so what did he expect really.

Bard got to work the second Merry and Pippin set them off as they weren’t exactly being generous with the time they had to do anything now and Bard knew he couldn’t afford not finishing in time.

He was going for a normal short crust pastry base with chocolate and salted caramel layers, topped with flakes of almonds and some chocolate ganache because the theme was chocolate so there probably wasn’t a limit to the amount of chocolate they wanted.

Tilda hadn’t thought there was any limit to the amount of chocolate on a good tart anyway, and that was good enough for him really.

He knew what Thranduil was doing, it was unsurprisingly a little alcoholic, somehow mixing wine and chocolate and coming out with something heavenly as usual. Wine and raspberries running through the chocolate filling, with finely cut bits of strawberry elegantly decorating the top, it was unfairly yummy.

He didn’t know what Éowyn and Faramir were up to but it was bound to be delicious, somewhere along the way the pair of them had really found their feet and were now formidable opponents in the baking so this was not going to be easy.

Still, Bard worked away, sorting out his pastry and lining the tin with it as neatly as he possibly could, a chocolate pastry of course (requested by Tilda, apparently it was the only thing that could make it yummier).

Frankly so long as he didn’t do something stupid and burn it he would be happy. If he was bound to go out today then so long as he wasn’t embarrassingly bad then he would be okay with it.

(Except for the fact that he really wanted to win dammit.)

He kept an eye on the time and managed to come in just under the wire, which was the best time to finish really because if you were done too early then it made it pretty clear to yourself and everyone else that you hadn’t done enough in the bake.

“Tarts to the end of you benches please your time it up!” Merry called, clapping his hands together and everyone diligently stopping with their final flourishes, moving the tarts to the end of their benches.

Everyone’s bakes looked infuriatingly perfect.

Éowyn had done a layer of thick passion fruit custard under her chocolate mousse layer in the tart, both of which held their shape and left a beautiful yellow to brown contrast when you cut it, the layers were also trim and perfect. Her base was neat and had no cracks, it was neither over baked nor under baked and her decorative toppings were scattered flakes of various nuts and chocolate.

Thranduil’s had Sam groaning around his fork and Galadriel’s eyes fluttering, the blend of wine and raspberry infused chocolate just as good as it had been when he’d made it at home apparently, and the strawberries over the top cut so evenly and so finely that they had a hard time believe that Thranduil had actually done that by hand.

So that was two perfect signature bakes.

Then was Faramir’s turn to be judged, he had gone for a ground oats base which had miraculously (or just because he was a good baker) held together just find, adding an extra texture to the tart, his chocolate filling was a swirl of dark, milk and white chocolate that was apparently a little dense but other than that a success, and topped off his little artistic webs of chocolate standing on top.

Finally was Bard’s turn, he hated going last almost as much as he hated going first, he liked to be nicely hidden in the middle, but of course there was only four of them left so there wasn’t really anywhere to hide. His chocolate pastry base went down well with the judges simply because he’d managed to pull it off in the allocated time, his chocolate and caramel layers had come out nicely and they were suckers for a good layer on this show so that was always a plus. They also liked his almond flakes and chocolate ganache, which was amazing because he had been utterly convinced he had messed the ganache off, but apparently not, he could hardly keep the grin off his face.

However, given how well they had all just done in that challenge it was still a complete open race for both star baker, and for who would end up going home.

“Bakers. It is time for you to face the technical challenge.” Merry started, fear immediately trying to seize Bard because this was bound to be hard.

“Which means you two shouldn’t even be here come on you know this by now.” Pippin mock tutted, shooing Galadriel and Sam out the tent as they always did for the technical.  

“It’s a bake off first this week.” Merry continued, which never ever meant good things. “And because of the small amount of time you are being given and the nature of the bake, we are staggering your start times.”

“So Bard, Thranduil and Faramir could you please leave the tent, you’ll be told what the challenge is when it is your turn to start.” Pippin said, steering the three of them out of the tent and that was that.

Bard looked at Éowyn before he left and to be fair to her, instead of freaking out her was rolling up her sleeves and had her game face on.

They all sat around in garden chairs a safe distance from the tent and looked at each other with equally mystified expressions.

“Anyone have a single clue what we are about to be asked to do?” Faramir asked, some nervous laughter coming through in his voice as he nervously raked a hand through his hair before hastily tying it up.

“Not one.” Thranduil answered, although he looked like his mind was working at a mile a minute to try and work it out.

“Well, this isn’t worrying at all.” Bard snorted as they all sat out there too preoccupied with whatever was going on in that tent to really make conversation, although a slender hand did find its way into his own at some point.

Fifteen minutes later and Thranduil was called into the tent, another ten Faramir and then finally five after that he was called in.

Soufflés, it was bloody soufflés. Bard _hated_ soufflés. He had attempted one once and it had not gone well at all and he had vowed never again, but apparently bake off had other ideas.  

They had an hour and fifteen minutes to produce a chocolate soufflé, the method said really helpful things like ‘make crème patisserie’, ‘make meringue’ and ‘make soufflé’. It also said he needed to bake for between forty and fifty minutes so he needed to attempt to make his soufflé rather quickly.  

So Bard heaved a sigh and faced his baking nemesis, vowing that after today he really never would make a damn soufflé again. He followed the vague and unhelpful instructions, making the crème pat and meringue and turning it into a chocolate soufflé, making sure the meringue was at least well mixed in so there weren’t any dodgy little whit bits of meringue poking around in the chocolate soufflé. Just on time he shoved it in the oven and went to sit beside Thranduil who was still waiting for his to cook as well.

In reality they had only really had about twenty five minutes of baking because the rest was just oven time.

“I hate soufflés.” Bard grumbled, charming a little melodic laugh out of Thranduil.

“Yes, they are not my favourite either.” He agreed, twirling a bit of loose hair back into Bard’s scruffy bun, Bard unable to resist catching his smooth chin between his fingers and drawing him into a lingering kiss.

“The camera caught that didn’t it.” Bard sighed as they parted, always remembering a touch too late that this was actually national television.

“Unfortunately I believe it did.” Thranduil answered but he was smiling so Bard didn’t really feel bad about it either.

They sat there for a while, mainly talking about the kids and Thranduil teasing him about the super-secret date he had planned for later on in the week until Thranduil eventually needed to get back to his own stupid soufflé.

“Anyway my love you need to go away because I need to get the soufflé out.” Thranduil told him gently, landing a peck to his lips.

“Stupid soufflé.” Bard mumbled, making Thranduil laugh a little as Bard wandered back to his own bench.

The judges were facing away and were bought the soufflés as they were taken out of the oven, just as they should be served, which explained the staggering.

Éowyn’s was good except for the slight bits of meringue still visible in the chocolate mix, Thranduil’s was not quite risen as well as it should be but tasted fine, Faramir’s was a little dense but generally fine, and Bard’s was apparently, _perfect_.

“Bard stop doing an impression of a fish.” Thranduil laughed as Bard stared open mouthed at the two judges as they awarded him first place in the technical and called his soufflé perfect.

“I still hate soufflés.” Was eventually what he managed to say once the shock had worn off a little, making everyone titter even though he was perfectly serious about it.

They all shuffled back to their stations, Thranduil showering congratulations kisses all over Bard’s face and making him blush excessively on national tv which Thranduil seemed to take great joy in. Asshole.

“It’s showstopper time.” Pippin announced with great glee, probably because he was just imagining the amount of chocolate he was about to have the opportunity to eat.

Galadriel and Sam announced the challenge, which basically boiled down to some kind of standing chocolate construction that must include biscuit and white chocolate somewhere (not necessarily together).

Bard had big plans for this showstopper and he was determined to nail it, mainly because he was doing it for Tilda and she was the main person he was worried about letting down in this whole competition.

He was building her a castle, the one she liked to draw and was determined that she was going to live in when she was all grown up. But she had agreed that for now, a chocolate one would suffice, so that was what Bard was doing.

He wasn’t just incorporating white chocolate, he was making the main castle out of it, only the roofing and tops of the turrets being milk chocolate because Tilda had decided that looked pretty and she was probably right. He had made all his moulds but had at home, carving every individual brick into them so it should look like stone work when it came out of the mould. He had even made little flags that looked like they were fluttering in the wind. It was on a biscuit base, raked over to look like shingle and he made some chocolate trees and a knight in shining armour on a little horse.

To say he was proud of it would be an understatement.

The best part was he actually managed it.

He could hardly believe it as he stared at it. Tilda would be proud.

“Alright bakers that is time. Thranduil, if you could bring your creation up to the front please.” Galadriel told them in that kind tone of hers.

Bard could clearly see that Thranduil had pulled his creation off as well, a treehouse seeming to defy physics as it was held up only by chocolate trees. It was obscenely intricately decorated and the biscuit base was chocolate too to make it look like a forest floor, there was even a little figure, not in the treehouse, but climbing in the trees, Bard knew it was Legolas playing Robin Hood outside the treehouse Thranduil had built for him, Bard had seen it, his own kids had played in it.

Bard almost cried when he saw the other three figures tucked into the trees playing as well.

Faramir was up next and he had built a white city rising up out the ground, stood and backed onto a biscuit base it was absolutely majestic, it even had a great sheen to the chocolate. Unfortunately, the whole thing was basically solid because Faramir hadn’t thought about how impossible that would actually make it to eat. But still, the small amount they managed to eat apparently tasted good.

Éowyn had created an exquisite carousel – that actually _spun_ – with beautiful white chocolate horses riding around inside it. The closer you looked the more detailed you realised the horses were each one with a mane carved into the chocolate, a face, hooves, it was incredible, the shortbread biscuit was woven into the chocolate, providing a bit more structural integrity to her carousel. It also tasted delicious, her chocolate perfectly cooked and set and the shortbread getting the same praise.

So that just left Bard.

“Inspired by your lovely daughter?” Galadriel smiled as she saw it, proving she actually did pay attention to them.

“My youngest yes, it’s the chocolate prototype of the castle she’s going to live in one day.” Bard explained and that had the two judges laughing lightly.

“My own daughters might be begging to come live with her.” Sam laughed and Bard grinned before holding his breath as he got judged.

They loved the castle, all the details and the flags and apparently it tasted rather impeccable as well which had Bard preening at the praise and being glad that Tilda would be proud of him.

Then came the horrible part, the part where the judges left to decide who would be going home, Bard hated this part, especially now.

None of them really spoke, but they sat together in their little line waiting for the verdict, various hands locked together in silent support until after what felt like a year, the judges and presenters returned.

“This week, I get the good task and I get to announce star baker, and I am happy to say that is it going to make a little princess back home very proud. So congratulations Bard.” Pippin grinned at him and Bard just gaped for the second time that day because it meant he was _safe_ , he was in the _final_.

“Well done darling.” Thranduil murmured as he kissed Bard’s cheek, making Bard blush _again_ on national tv.

“I get the much less desirable task of announcing who is leaving us this week. And to say it was a hard decision would be a massive understatement. So it is with huge regret that it is Faramir who is leaving us today.” Merry told them, glum look on his face and a practically stricken one on Pippin’s.

Faramir nodded gracefully and Bard hauled him into a quick hug.

“Don’t you stop believing in yourself. Your father’s a dick. Listen to your brother instead. And Éowyn.” Bard told him firmly, before releasing him.

“Thank you.” Faramir smiled, trying not to get teary and failing a little.

“If I owned a bakery, I’d hire you in a heartbeat.” Thranduil said, honestly filling his words and that had Faramir smiling properly, they all know what a perfectionist Thranduil was.

Éowyn and Faramir then fell into a rather prolonged cuddle and Bard and Thran thought it was probably best to leave them too it, heading back to the car hand in hand, Bard practically giddy with excitement even though he was devastated for Faramir.

“I am going to kick your ass.” Bard grinned as they headed to the car, Thranduil turning that devastating smirk on him.

“Bring it on Bowman.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!  
> Next week is the final, you are now voting for the winner of bake-off, and as such, you now only get *ONE VOTE*
> 
> Thank you for reading, please vote for who you want to be the winner!


	11. Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've marked this as the last chapter but there is possibility of an epilogue in the style of an episode of Extra Slice appearing in the next few days, i won't guarantee anything, it depends how much uni work/moving I get on top of, but it isn't out of the question <3

 

It was so strange to be bringing the kids to Bake Off with them this weekend.

Of course that was not nearly as strange as the fact that Bard has somehow fought his way into the final, he still wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened.

The kids were bickering in the back of Thranduil’s people carrier (turned out he owned about ten cars not just the sleek sports car he usually drove) about which one of them was going to win and honestly it sounded like utter bedlam was going to break out no matter who ended up winning. Really Bard was just surprised they were awake and lively so early in the morning, he had half expected them to sleep the whole way there, but apparently it was too exciting for sleepiness, and really Bard had to agree. 

He kept telling himself he was a winner no matter what happened, and sitting in the car watching the beautiful man he was fairly sure he’d fallen in love with already drive he knew he was right, he was a winner.

But dammit he also wanted to actually win.

As neither he nor Thran had other half’s that could watch their gang of kids while they were in the tent, Bilbo had promised he didn’t mind watching them, and Percy and Hilda were going to be there as well and Bard’s kids liked them, and Thranduil had said something about a woman from work named Tauriel that Legolas was infatuated with.

Otherwise they had been told they could leave them with the presenters of extra slice Fili and Kili and Bard could only imagine how much chaos would end up ensuing if they allowed that to happen and both he and Thranduil had politely (and far less politely from Thranduil) had vetoed the idea. It was fairly easy to convince their friends to come baby sit for them when it meant they got to go to the Bake Off tea party held at the end of every Bake Off final.

Thranduil parked up the car and they let the children out, all of them racing off to go find the people they had been watching on the tv for the past ten weeks before getting shy and waiting for Bard and Thranduil to introduce them to a few people.

It was weird to see everyone again, Beorn giving him his customary nod when they saw each other, and Bard got the feeling that was about as close to a smile and good luck Beorn ever gave. Apparently Beorn had started bee keeping, better honey that way Bard was assured. Bombur was sat on a bench eating, Balin sat with him, the pair laughing about something. Faramir had who must be his brother Boromir with him, who looked proud as punch t Faramir for getting as far as he did, and Faramir seemed to be getting a semi-stern talking to from someone Bard assumed was Éowyn’s brother, the uncle that raised them had kind eyes and was laughing at whatever her brother was saying to Faramir, Éowyn herself must already be in the tent, which was probably where they should be really.

Radagast looked as out of place as ever and maybe Bard’s eyes were playing tricks on him but it looked like the family and friends Radagast had bought with him was in fact a hedgehog and a couple of very very large rabbits. Arwen was looking sophisticated as ever, offering Bard and Thranduil and encouraging smile from where she was sat with her fiancé and a only mildly disapproving looking father.

Ori was sat with his hulking boyfriend and the pair of them were chatting away with Thorin, the pair of them seeming to know each other quite well, and also sat on that picnic bench was Bilbo with a squirming Frodo always trying to clamber down and go off in search for his next big adventure. They walked their kids over to Bilbo who got up when he saw them coming, Frodo looking excited by the kids his age, he, Tilda and Legolas all looked around the same age.

“Now you guys be good for Bilbo okay.” Bard told them using his best ‘da’ voice which sucked because he was absolutely terrible at being at all strict.

“But my leaf if you ‘accidentally’ kick Thorin I certainly won’t be punishing you.” Thranduil added with a smirk, leaving Legolas looking confused, Bilbo laughing and Bard punching him in the arm. “That was my whisking arm.” Thranduil deadpanned.

“Behave.” Bard laughed back and Thorin was now glaring at Thranduil, but to be honest that was pretty normal.

Bard found Percy and Hilda in the crowd and waved them over, the pair of them offering supportive hugs and Bilbo made space for them on the table which Bard appreciated.

“Where’s Tauriel?” Bard asked, turning to look at Thranduil and finding him scowling at a tall red head smiling at a stocky brunet.

“Being chatted up by one of the Extra Slice presenters by the look of it.” Thranduil looked like a disapproving father. “I’ll be right–”

“Oh no you don’t.” Bard laughed, catching Thranduil by the hand. “You’re not her father leave her alone. And we should be in the tent already anyway.” Bard pointed out and Thranduil looked like her was going to protest, but then relented and just pouted instead.

“Good luck da good luck ada!” Tilda shouted, before skipping off with her siblings, Legolas and Frodo, who were all also yelling their good lucks as they scampered off.

“Okay, we should be– ” Bard started, trying to tug Thranduil away toward the tent only to find him rooted to the spot looking out after Tilda with an impossible expression on his face.

“She called me ada.” Thranduil said, quiet and slow like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah, sorry, um, do you want me to ask her not to…” Bard asked awkwardly, it was still relatively early in their relationship after all, even if Bard was pretty convinced he was going to be picking out rings as soon as it was sociably acceptable. 

“No.” Thranduil answered without hesitation and slightly louder, face getting that really soft expression and it made Bard melt that it was aimed at where all the children were playing.

“Come on you.” Bard smiled, tugging Thranduil gently towards the tent, actually managing to coax him into moving this time, but they only got a few steps before Thranduil was pulling him into a deep kiss that made it pretty clear that Bard wasn’t the only one already in love.

When they finally got to the tent Éowyn was already there, siking herself up by the looks of her pacing, Merry stood next to her offering her encouragements by the looks of things.

“Morning.” Bard greeted her as he and Thranduil went to find their apron’s, Thranduil still using the silly ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron Bard had bought him all those weeks ago.

“Yeah.” She laughed nervously, running a hand through her wavy blond hair before tossing it up into a ponytail.

“Final day.” Thranduil remarked, as if they weren’t all well aware, Bard and Éowyn nodding in response.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. But I do intend to crush you.” Éowyn said, straight face and nerves being beaten down by her sheer force of will and Bard and Thranduil laughed gently and she grinned and suddenly some of the tension was gone.

But he had no doubt she hand meant every word.  

Bard and Thranduil had definitely been running late though because they got less than two minutes before Merry and Pippin were scurrying off and they were coming back in with the judges and cameras were rolling and god this was the _final_.

“So, the final three bakers.” Galadriel smiled that serene smile and it was very clear the judges were not about to go easy on them, everything was going to have to be absolutely perfect.

“Whatever happens today, you have done exceptionally well to get this far in the competition.” Sam assured them, and they all knew it was true just like they all knew that they wanted to win.

“Okay bakers, for your final signature bake, Galadriel and Sam would like you to bake sixteen filled iced buns.” Pippin started and Thranduil finally let Bard go and glided back to his own station as Bard watched him go.

The bastard was probably deliberately trying to distract Bard with the way he was moving his hip.

Éowyn just looked like she meant serious business, her head was most definitely in the game.    

Its was actually a little scary, made Bard think he should probably focus on something other than Thranduil’s ass right now and he snapped his attention up to Merry who was now speaking.

“They need to be two different kinds, you have three hours.”

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

And off they went on the final signature bake challenge of the Bake Off this year. Luckily, iced buns were one of Bard’s favourite things in the whole world so he had had many years of practice making them.

The kids had helped him to decide what flavours he should make and after a lot of experimenting and bad flavour combinations they had final come to the conclusion that the superior flavours were chocolate, hazelnut and cream in one batch of them, and summer fruits in the other eight. He was nervous because it was the final, but he wasn’t particularly nervous about this bake, which in turn made him nervous because it would just be even worse if he got it wrong as he should definitely know how to make an iced bun and he’d got it right so many times at home.

Unsurprisingly Bard tried to stay out of his own head at all costs while baking because it had a habit of leading to over thinking and freaking out. 

The dough had to spend about an hour proving before shaping and then another half hour once he had made them look like actual buns, but there wasn’t too much waiting around time because he still had the fillings to make and at least ten minutes had to be allowed on each challenge for mild freak outs (but it was okay because he had factored it in). Éowyn was a woman on a mission and Thranduil was as calm as ever at his station, Bard just hoped they were as nervous on the inside as he was.

Soon enough they were calling time and being told to move their bakes to the end of their benches and there could definitely be an argument made that Bard had been cutting it fine as he had been only just finishing the icing on the last bun as Pippin had started to speak.

Bard decided to think of it as ‘utilising all the time given’ and not ‘oh shit I need to check my watch more often’.

They judged Thranduil first, he had made one with all sorts of different spices, winding them together flawlessly and the other with nutmeg and sour cherry. It was love at first bite for the nutmeg and sour cherry flavours, but the spices apparently left something to be desired (which Bard disagreed with wholly because he had _tasted_ those when Thranduil was practicing them and they were awesome).

Bard’s were next and he was pretty sure he didn’t actually breathe while the judges tasted them. Galadriel’s eyes lit up as she tasted the chocolate, hazelnut and cream and Sam made an equally impressed noise as he tried one of the summer fruits buns. A couple of the buns were slightly misshapen, but given how much the judges liked both of his flavour combinations and how well the actual bake had gone he was pretty elated about his comments.

Last they came to Éowyn who had done something clever with infusing elderflower into the dough because the flavour didn’t usually come through in mixtures like that, and had complimented those buns with a light lemon flavour and cream in the filling, both piped in flawlessly. And then in her other batch she had gone for apple and cinnamon flavours which was a classic combination that Sam was particularly fond of and won Galadriel over with how well she had executed the whole bake.

They had a short loo break and quickly cleared up their baking stations, Thranduil giving Bard’s hand a squeeze when he passed, all three of them unusually quiet and feeling the pressure.

“Up next is your last ever technical challenge.” Pippin grinned which probably wasn’t a good sign as Merry shooed Galadriel and Sam out of the tent. “The judges would like you to bake one of Sam’s own recipes.”

Somehow it was always worse if they screwed up one of the judges personal bakes.

“They want six, perfect, raspberry millefeuilles from you, in just two hours.” Merry announced and Bard recognised the name but could not for the life of him summon up an image in his head.

Or indeed say millefeuille out loud correctly.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

The instructions were, as ever, vague, and Bard couldn’t even spend a little while trying to puzzle it all out because they only had two hours and the clock was ticking.

First up was making a rough puff pastry which he at least knew how to do, grabbing what he needed from the pile of ingredients that had been put on the end of his bench and getting started, focussing on the positive that he could complete the first step.

The method continued in its vagueness with detailed points like ‘make a jam’, ‘make a sugar syrup’, ‘make the icing’, but Bard was pretty sure he was actually on the right track, what he was creating at least looked like it might possibly be a thing, which was better than nothing he supposed.

Also with cheeky glances around the room they all seemed to be doing pretty much the same thing and there was always strength in numbers he supposed. In the end what he had was a base of rough puff lined with raspberries and Chantilly cream, another wafer of rough puff, another filling of raspberries and Chantilly cream, a third wafer of rough puff as the top, with pink and white diagonally striped fondant icing on the top. It was also, thankfully, what Thranduil and Éowyn had ended up with.

They set their bakes behind the picture of themselves and retreated to their little row of seats, Bard ended up in the middle with Thranduil’s hand squeezing one of his hands and Éowyn finding the other for support as well.

None of them seemed to have been spot on with their bakes, probably because none of them had been entirely sure what the hell a millefeuille was, but no one had had a disaster either. Bard’s piping of the cream was a little messy, Éowyn’s rough puff wasn’t quite buttery enough, and Thranduil’s fondant icing hadn’t bonded together properly, but other than that they seemed pretty happy with them all. In the end Thranduil ended up in third, Bard in second and Éowyn in first, but with how close it had been they all knew it wasn’t going to make a huge amount of difference.

That left the showstopper.

And in the finale the showstopper really did need to be something particularly special.

“Guys, it is time for your final final bake off challenge.” Pippin announced once everything had been cleared away from the technical and set up for the showstopper.

“The judges want you to produce, a multi-tiered classic cake of a single flavour.” Merry told them, well, told the cameras, they already knew.

It sounded suspiciously simple, until you remembered that they were in the final of bake off and were going to be expected to make something amazing, the classic cakes were just going to be the building blocks.

“So for the last time.” Pippin said solemnly.

“On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Bake!” The pair of them chorused and off they went one last time.

The problem was, where they wanted at least three separate ‘tiers’ of cake, you couldn’t actually really construct any kind of cake sculpture this time, which mean they were having to be a little bit more imaginative to make it impressive.

Bard was going to mount his three cakes on different stands, cover them in white icing that he would work into looking like snow, and link them together with some sugar work that he was going to try, _somehow_ , to weave into giving the illusion of snow falling. He was making a Christmas cake after all, not really the season for it, but he had always been good at Christmas cake, and no one could claim it wasn’t classic.

Well, it was _sort of_ Christmas cake, it was a fast bake Christmas cake because Christmas cakes take weeks, so really it was a fruit cake, but it was the one he did for Christmas every year at home and he loved it and so did the kids. And frankly if he managed to pull of the sugar work then he would be so relieved that nothing else mattered really.

He planned different decorations on each layer, Sigrid ice skating on the bottom and biggest cake, like a pool that all the sugar snow was falling in to, Bain throwing snowballs in the next one up, and on the top and smallest, Tilda making a snow angel. And all the figures were going to be made out of sugar work, which was not going to be easy.

Yeah, it was going to be a small miracle if he pulled it off.

He knew that Thranduil was creating a carrot cake masterpiece with cinnamon and all spice and cloves and all sorts of other rich flavours that grabbed you at first bite. Thranduil was making four of these cakes and decorating each of them to look like the forest floor in a different season, a tall tree of spiced chocolate winding its way up between them all. The end result really was breathtaking when he nailed it, and Thranduil always nailed it.

Bard made the mistake of looking over to Éowyn’s station at one point and she had so much on the go and looked so incredibly in control that it was a little terrifying and he decided never to look over their again.

The time disappeared as it always seemed to do and an actual miracle had happened in that tent because Bard had managed to produce all the sugar work correctly and even if it was a winter scene in the middle of summer, it still looked damn good.

And so did Thranduil’s and Éowyn’s. Damn this was tight.

Bard ended up judged first and Galadriel made the link that the figures on the cakes were his children and she seemed to love that touch almost as much as she loved the cakes themselves. Utterly uniform in flavour and very impressed by Bard’s extensive sugar work creating the scenes and figures. All in all he really couldn’t have hoped for better comments from the judges, and he was really really proud of himself, which he supposed was the main thing.

Thranduil received stunning comments as well, apparently having produced the best spice mix Sam had ever been exposed to, and the sheer precision that had gone into each of his cakes and forest scenes was amazing, then with the chocolate work thrown in in the form of the tree with chill power running through it to match the spices in the cakes. It was devastatingly good.

Then there was Éowyn who had opted for lemon cakes, her favourites, and arranging them in a cascade that had a little figure tucked small and tight into the corner of the bottom cake, rising tall and high on the second, and on the highest cake a beautifully made chocolate horse rearing up with a rider with a sword and whipping long hair upon it, it was an incredibly powerful image. Bard got the feeling it was pretty personally expressive piece of baking. It was also reportedly the single most amazing lemon cake either of the judges had ever tasted.

“Alright you lot, time for the judges to make a very hard decision.” Merry said, corralling the three of them to the door.

“Go be sociable, and Éowyn in looks like Faramir might need saving from your brother.” Pippin added, which had Éowyn rolling her eyes.

“It’s over.” Bard said a little dumbly as they all emerged, it felt weird, obviously they didn’t know who had won – and Bard certainly couldn’t tell – but that was it as far as the actual baking went.

They emerged from the tent with their showstoppers which lead to uproarious applause and everyone wanting a slice of everything and Bombur wanting an entire cake of everything.

The next half hour was a blur of people that none of the three of them really listened to, not because they didn’t care, just because they were kind of preoccupied by the impending decision.

And then they emerged, Galadriel carrying the glass trophy in the shape of a cake stand, Sam, Merry and Pippin each holding a bouquet of flowers and Bard’s heart was beating out of his chest because this was it. Once again Bard found himself with one of Thranduil’s and Éowyn’s hands in his own as they held onto each other for a lick of support as they walked away from the family and friends to stand in front of the judges to be given the verdict one final time.

“First off, well done to you all, you don’t need me to say it but you’ve all done amazingly.” Sam told them, that trademark kindness and sincerity shining through as he gave them all a warm smile.

“But there does have to be a winner, although you certainly did not make the decision easy for us.” Galadriel smiled at them and Bard was pretty sure none of them were breathing.

“This is it guys.” Pippin grinned at them, and it was what they had been waiting for.

“The winner of Bake Off 2015 is...” Merry started before leaving a really unfairly long pause. “Éowyn!”

Merry shouted and the whole place burst out into applause and Éowyn looked like she couldn’t quite believe her ears and needed Merry to repeat himself and it didn’t even matter that he hadn’t won because Éowyn was smiling so hard her face was about to break and Thranduil was sweeping him up into a rather intense kiss and it was still the best day of his life.

Faramir and Éowyn’s brother and uncle were racing over and scooping her up to sit on their shoulders and parading her around and making everyone laugh and the kids had come charging over and were climbing up their legs telling them how well they had done and how proud they were and how yummy all the cakes were.

It was hectic and perfect and when things had finally calmed down Bard and Thranduil managed to find Éowyn and give her a long hug of congratulations, they almost felt like comrades in arms at this point.

“Got anything to say about your victory?” Pippin grinned as Éowyn’s uncle, brother and Faramir finally let her down.  

“Yeah. If one more person makes a ‘now you really do have to stay in the kitchen’ joke I will not be held accountable for my actions.” Éowyn deadpanned into the camera, making everyone laugh even though everyone was also fairly certain she was completely serious. 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to stick to it’s in yoru name jokes.” Pippin nodded solemnly, leaving pretty much everyone looking confused. “You know.” He grinned, meaning it was going to be a terrible joke. “ÉoWIN.” Pippin shouted triumphantly before cackling to himself while everyone else groaned at the bad joke.

Thing calmed down a little and the tea party broke out in full force, cakes and hot drinks and everyone being just slightly chilly because summer here was never actually reliably warm.

They were sat around on the only very slightly damp ground, Thranduil being precious about his trousers and sitting on Bard’s coat, watching their children playing with (more like terrorising) Beorn and Thranduil slipped something cold and metal into Bard’s hand.

It was a key to his house.

“I think I fell in love with you somewhere along the way.” Thranduil murmured.

“It’s okay, I fell in love with you too.” Bard smiled back.

He’s say it had been a pretty good summer really.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been the bane of my life for the past ten weeks because I have to write a minimum of 3k a night that I couldn't actually start until after 9pm and real bake off because I had to make notes during my fave show so that I actually had something for them to do in the challenges. Now, this was a bit of a tall order but I'm so proud I managed it every time, and the only reason I did was the wonderful response that it received <3 
> 
> If you ever read, voted, commented, or even just gave your silent support to this fic, thank you, it means the world and is the only reason it got finished <3


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